She opened up the letter – read the words through teary eyes,
another kind rejection, but it’s not a big surprise.

She drops it in the basket on a pile of fifty more,
a wasted application – not a single open door.

She’d graduated college like her parents said she should,
her path to a brighter future – but it wasn’t looking good.

She’d borrowed lots of money in pursuit of education –
a worthless course of study and a pricey graduation.

Now the clock is ticking while the walls are closing in,
the lender wants his money and his patience – growing thin.

To make things even harder – her dad cosigned the note,
and the folks at Union Capital could take their house and boat.

A perfect storm of wretchedness had brought its guns to bear,
no sign of resolution – only panic and despair.

She’d heard some politicians claim that they’d forgive her loan,
but they failed to get elected so the burden was her own.

Her fear now turned to anger, that a cruel and biased system
would rob her of her future – just another guiltless victim.

America the beautiful had really let her down –
the land of opportunity that kicked her to the ground.

Was time to voice her discontent and take it to the street –
to join the other victims and apply a little heat.

They gathered on a Friday, on a clear and balmy night,
birds of common feather – mad and looking for a fight.

The causes there were varied – aimed at all the country’s ills,
a crowd of ink and piercings lacking any social skills.

Some there only chanted, brandished signs with words of ire,
while others wreaked destruction – throwing bottles filled with fire.

Like spews of molten lava torching all that’s in its path –
the cause lacked definition – just a show of mindless wrath.

The crowd turned their attention to a driver in his car –
he tried to keep on going, but he didn’t make it far.

They pulled him through his window and drug him by his feet,
commenced a brutal beating – left him dying in the street.

Her sense of cause was waning from the fury all around,
when she happened on the old man hurt and bleeding on the ground.

In an act of grave compassion, she stopped to render aid,
she shielded him from passersby so he wouldn’t be afraid.

She placed him in his backseat and jumped behind the wheel,
she understood the mission – his condition not ideal.

They got to Mercy General just in time to save his life –
she waited in the lobby for the chance to greet his wife.

She told her what had happened, how her husband met his fate,
that things were looking hopeful – he was in a better state.

Hugs and thanks were given, but her words could not express
her true appreciation, “Because of you, we’re blessed!”

Was just a few days later, she was sifting through her mail,
a notice from the lender – likely threats of pending jail.

But this time things were different, there were no big words ‘Past Due’,
the balance now was zero – as to why, she had no clue.

The next one was a letter from a man she’d’ never met,
and in it was a written note, with words she’d not forget.

“Hi, my name is Harold – we met last Friday night,
I’m the guy whose life you saved, so I felt compelled to write.

I paid your student loan off – it’s the least that I could do,
and to take it even further, I’ve the perfect job for you.

If you’ll take my offer (and I really think you should),
you’ll be a welcomed member – and the pay is really good.

Thanks so much for being there in a dire time of need,
to help an old man dying – was a selfless act indeed.”

God bless.
Sincerely,
Harold Givens
President, Union Capital