The Pit

By Steven Searcy

I am afraid

to even see

the tragedy—

the mess I’ve made.

Rage, greed, pride, doubt—

from my heart’s store,

all these and more

come spewing out.

I am the pit

I’m in—dark, dank,

cold. Who can yank

me out of it?

One hand can plumb

these depths. When all

is lost, I call—

he said he’d come!

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Steven Searcy lives with his wife and three sons in Atlanta, GA, where he works as an engineer in fiber optic telecommunications. His poetry has appeared in Ekstasis, Reformed Journal, Fathom Magazine, Heart of Flesh, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, and Amethyst Review, among others. Find him on Twitter @ithinkiamsteven and Instagram @smsearcy19.