Slowly the pit draws me into itself
Down I go, swallowed alive.
Extending my hand for all to see
I attempt to grasp at life.
Through the muck spattered across my face
I glimpse a sea of hands.
The hands are also reaching out
Trying to grab at anything.
Finally, I am able to get ahold of another hand
Now I will be pulled up from the pit!
But the hand is weak, wimpy, and weary
Without strength to pull me up.
I connect with another hand
Surely my deliverance is nigh.
The hand begins to pull
Hope begins to well within me.
I suddenly realize that the hand is pulling me down
Down further than I am.
Releasing that hand I find another
This one from higher up.
This must be someone to rescue me
They squeeze me tight in their grip.
Ah, finally I will be saved
I tense my muscles as I rejoice at help.
But the hand suddenly relaxes,
Merely a shake of my hand and then it is gone.
Where is my help?
Where is my deliverer?
I see another hand reaching through the mist
This one looks different from the rest.
I can see this is a strong hand
Muscles built through years of hard work.
I look again at the hand
I see a large scar in its palm.
My Savior, my Deliverer!
The one who will rescue me!
Alas, He touches my hand
Pats me on the shoulder and is gone.
I continue to extend my hand.
The sea of hands continue to extend to those around it.
We continue to sink
Down, down, down in the pit.
By Keith Koerner, 2011
Yes, that poem seems a bit depressing. But it also conveys observations of life. Life isn't always pretty, and at times it can be depressing. I've observed how people reach out their hands to me, and how I've reached out my hands to others. I've seen how those who are hurting draw back, and few reach out their hands to help. I've, shamefully, done it many times myself. Why, when seeing someone hurting, do we pull back ourselves? Do we not want to get our hands dirty? Do we have enough problems of our own? Do we simply put out a weak effort to appease our conscience?
So many are hurting. So many are reaching out their hands, looking for help, looking for someone to pull them from the pit. Will you be the one to truly grab hold and pull someone to safety?
Yes, that poem seems a bit depressing. But it also conveys observations of life. Life isn't always pretty, and at times it can be depressing. I've observed how people reach out their hands to me, and how I've reached out my hands to others. I've seen how those who are hurting draw back, and few reach out their hands to help. I've, shamefully, done it many times myself. Why, when seeing someone hurting, do we pull back ourselves? Do we not want to get our hands dirty? Do we have enough problems of our own? Do we simply put out a weak effort to appease our conscience?
So many are hurting. So many are reaching out their hands, looking for help, looking for someone to pull them from the pit. Will you be the one to truly grab hold and pull someone to safety?
