Are Our Shoulders Broad Enough?

The other day I read a poem that I cannot keep out of my mind. I shared it on Facebook and received some positive comments on it. The more I think about it, the more I feel that the central point of this poem may be the most important concept for the survival of the civilized human race. Let's forget about global warming for the moment as that may cause the ultimate demise of humankind at some point, but this poem raises the possibility in my mind that something else may beat this particular kind of global destruction.
The poem makes its point in a poignant situation involving father and child - one that any parent who loves his or her children will feel deeply. The poem plays upon the care and protection a father affords his young child, but then makes the point that we all will have to behave in this way to each other if we want to survive.
In the face of the political polarization of Congress and our populace, this poem's premise is particularly astute. When Congress can't or won't pass bills to ameliorate the economic debacle that is our status right now; when Democrats and Republicans cannot compromise enough to prod a Congress mired in distrust and dislike for each other into action; when attack ads are the norm in any political contest; when millions are out of work and losing their homes, it is obvious that we are not taking care of each other, let alone, business. Far from it.
I have felt responsible for others for most of my life. Maybe it's because I was the first child of four. Maybe it's because I'm an Aquarius. Perhaps it is because I had the parents I was lucky enough to be born to. I feel that we are all in "this" together and that in order to make the most of "it" (read "life"), we need to help each other deal with life. We need to lend support when others need it. We need to open doors when someone has burdens that make it hard for them to do so. We need to recognize when others are weak and help them rediscover their strength. The "no man is an island" idea speaks to me. We are only as strong as our weakest link has its appeal, but to state it simply, we are all in this together and to mix metaphors even more, a house divided cannot stand. The world is our house. All the peoples in it are the house. Our neighbors across the street and the Ethiopian orphans in Africa are the house. Even the Wall Street millionaires and the crooked mortgage brokers are the house. We are all in this together. It's about time we acted like it. But do we have shoulders broad enough to bear the responsibility?
Here is the poem that is still chasing me:

Shoulders
by Naomi Shihab Nye

A man crosses the street in rain,
stepping gently, looking two times north and south,
because his son is asleep on his shoulder.

No car must splash him.
No car drive too near to his shadow.

This man carries the world's most sensitive cargo
but he's not marked.
Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE,
HANDLE WITH CARE.

His ear fills up with breathing.
He hears the hum of a boy's dream
deep inside him.

We're not going to be able
to live in this world
if we're not willing to do what he's doing
with one another.

The road will only be wide.
The rain will never stop falling.

"Shoulders" by Naomi Shihab Nye, from Red Suitcase. © BOA Editions, Ltd., 1994. Reprinted with permission.