Faith And The Blues.

Faith, and the Blues--just east of St.Louis- for a fortnight.

I've spent a very brief time traversing Illinois

at 75 miles an hour,

I was belted across its girth

roaring out of Indiana>

Soon I'll cross the Mississippi

and slip beneath the arch,

that bends with grace,

at my approach.

A night in old St. Louis,

where the waters have receeded

from far too many floods of tears,

throughout the years.

These people know the Blues

here bend muscles,

that were hardened,

by sandbagging endless levies,

Here lie folk's most

prized possessions,

crushed, and sodden in landfills

everytime the old banks overflow.

There are other banks that empty

hard-earned dollars go,

to stop the flows,

of flood damage unchecked.

In St. Louis

if they're bent,

and broke, like reeds,

in raging currents

when the waters purge,

they all emerge,

to clean up it's deterrents.

It takes a strong faith,

to work this land, watch it die,

and then rebuild.

Missouri folks make other plans,

when their dreams go unfulfilled.

Tonight I'll spend

a night here, staying high,

and dry, I'm sure

but I'm leaving in the morning,

from this dream so insecure

heading out across the plains,

where dust bowls

dry up all the crops.

Soon I'll reach my destination,

but life's blues, they never stop.

©-MFB III