Drought

May 2015

He staggered up to the reservoir
Parched.
Could smell the water on the other side.
Knew it was there
Desired it desperately.

Only a trickle dribbled out
From a seam here and there.

He spoke softly to the wall - asking it to yield its water.
When that failed, he yelled at it.  Beat it with his fists.
Kicked it so hard he injured himself.
But the water would not flow.

He found a sledgehammer and swung hard.
Once, twice, three times.
Frantic, furious.

The trickle became a dribble, but still
His thirst was too great.
His will too weak.
He staggered off to seek a second source.

As soon as his step receded into the distance
There was a crack.
Each place the hammer had struck began to crack.
Each impact, a crater.
Each crater the center of a web
Each crack in the web began to spread.

The wall -once so impenetrable - suddenly gave way!
Water - sweet water - fresh, crisp, pure -
Poured forth in endless supply.
Quenching and cool - plentiful and refreshing.

But he had shuffled on.
Still parched.
Still seeking.
Never looking back.