Just a few miles down a dust covered road from my hometown of Wakenda, the Missouri river rolled its muddy water eastward. It offered life to the small farms struggling against poverty. It offered money to the barge owners that floated its turbulent waters. It offered hope to those that moved their goods to better markets.
But to one young boy standing silent on its bank staring into the murky water… it offered a promise. It promised to cool the sweltering Midwest heat that was beating down on his shoulders with the fierceness of Hell itself. It promised to take away his pain and give him peace. It promised him that he would never be hungry or ridiculed for being different. It promised him he would never be rejected. The hypnotizing swirls called to him; whispering to him a promise of freedom.
What a simple thing it would be to do, he thought. Just slide one foot closer to the edge. Just one small step and let the water surround him. With a smile of contentment on his face, he turned to take one last look at his friends as if to say goodbye. That’s when he realized he was getting a bite on his fishing line.
“Holy shit,” he said as he reached down and cupped one hand around the pole and gave it a jerk. Ten minutes later, he was holding the largest catfish any one had seen in years.
A single point frozen in time…
Placed there, perhaps, to change one person’s world…
There is more to a poem than a rhyme
There is more to a day than just time
Through all the hatred, laughter and sorrow
There will always be hope of a better tomorrow