That space persuasions pay no mind,
where politics have not one vote,
denominations stay unnamed,
and colors cannot tell themselves:

between two hands extended, tense,
one through rubble, into light,
the other downward, out of sight,
both stretched far beyond pretense.

Within this desperate circumstance,
disputes have no time to dance,
when all that matters: save, be saved.
Salvation grasped as judgements waived.