Sitting here listening to Josh Groban's version of "You Raise me Up," echoes of CNN and a day full of tragic New Orleans coverage fill me, and I weep. A once pretty melody with rather nice words deepens in impact and meaning---I imagine myself in New Orleans. What it would mean for me, how I would feel; how much I want to be there to help, extend my able hand. We raise each other up. Yet, see how confused and lost some of us are now? How some rage and cry and die alone, a humble and sacred exit. Thousands: 911, Middle East, Tsunami, New Orleans. Thousands, in an instant. In a blink. Dead. Gone. No more. Only memories and barely. Islam's extremists speak so highly of Death, and bring it unhaltingly to our feet. Was life given to extinguish with such passion? With such wreckless abandon and cruelty? Can a storm have such passion? Indifferent, sublime, crashing down and over, Katrina lived and expired in a day. She leaves behind a legacy: We raise each other up, if only, if only, it happens once in a while, now and then; it happens at all and that matters. Like Christ bore his cross, we must all bear ours, but together we raise up Christ/s light, Allah's jewel, Buddha's Flame, and Israel's crown for God and mankind. When we bleed we all bleed red. The source of life is in each of us, differently, but together as one.