By Joseph Aukward, Psy.D. `27

This place is dark. It is cold and lifeless.
I wither at the bottom, wondering how I fell so far.
The Pit claws past me, stretching towards eternity
It was once a ring about my feet,
A barrier my eyes did not see.
It grew as I slipped,
Covering me with its shadows.
It feeds on my strengths, claiming them for its own.
Now, there is nothing left to grasp for.
My pleas go unheeded, my languishing unceasing.
The souls of many fall prey to the Pit.
Whether they collapse from a towering height above,
Or shrivel piece by piece as I did.
We all find ourselves at the bottom,
Abandoned by the pasts we thought secure.
My joy once filled the sky above,
Before it grew dark with storm.
When the clouds break and the Pit floods,
I will be the first to drown.
I have no recourse, no shovel with which to dig myself free.
My errors weigh heavy, dragging my face to the mud.
There is a puddle beneath me
A stranger stares up from it,
His eyes as lifeless as the Pit itself.
the pit
Joseph Aukward, Psy.D. `27
17
I drink from the puddle.
There is no other way.
Above, the sky is gone and the darkness fills all.
Even my own hands lay hidden.
Trembling fingers reach up for the sides,
Digging into the mud and stone.
I haul myself from the ground,
Towards a place I cannot see.
The Pit will not consume me as it consumes many others.
My breath is a promise,
The symbol of rebirth.
My heart yearns for escape, even as the pain squashes it
I climb, even as the dirt fills my lungs.
I climb, even as the rats bite my fingers.
I climb, even as the darkness prevails.
I climb because I must.
No darkness reigns forever
And no Pit is without end.
The world hails from light,
It will not fade so long as the candle still burns
I will see the flame of deliverance again.