You’ve seen him drowning. Maybe his life gasps feebly in the bottle. He sleeps on the streets, in the gutter, in the doorways, unable to find his way home. Or unwilling to. Maybe he lives only for his next score, stealing, killing to support his insatiable addiction. Maybe he throws away his future. He engulfs himself in a thick cloud, uncaring, wasting away his talents. Any enthusiasm dwindles away to apathy. Maybe he is a lonely kid, searching for a release from the pain. A plastic bottle to numb, a sharp edge to feel. Maybe you have even tried to help him. Or maybe they say he’s too far gone. ‘That one is past saving.’

                But what if there is still someone who can? For every drowning soul, at least one other person in the world who can help. At least one. Maybe more. Maybe a hundred. Or just a single person. Maybe a thousand. A thousand who have the power to turn around, to reach out and grab hold, to pull him out of a crushing slew or crashing waves, out of a strong undertow, pulling him away and under forever. And any one of a thousand can do it, have the power to do it. Maybe others would try. Others who aren’t part of the thousand, part of the handful, others who would cry out, unable to reach. Without the power to save him, they can do nothing but watch in pain. And all the while, maybe there was someone else who needed them instead.

                We see him drowning. ‘We shouldn’t watch. We can’t be associated. It might corrupt us, our children. We don’t want to turn out like that.’ So we turn our backs on him, cross our arms. And if only one person in the entirety of his vast world has the power, the influence over him, to convince him to grasp the outstretched hand, to allow himself to be pulled out of the black, sucking swirls, then the person has the power to save him from drowning. But what if the person is one of the turned backs, eyes averted? As others, powerless, try to help but cannot. What if his last chance turns away, ‘I don’t want to look. That’s wrong, what he does. I can’t get involved.’ Maybe you aren’t his last chance. Maybe it’s someone else. Maybe there are others. A handful of others. A hundred others. But what if there was no one else. What if you let him drown?

Can you take that chance?

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updated Dec 10 '10 by Lyre