Ryan Pritt graduated with a degree in English/Creative Writing
from West Virginia University in 2008. He has since gone on to become a
sports writer at the Charleston Gazette-Mail, but in his free time still
writes creatively as well.
Dig and
arise
Back-breaking,
pain-staking, earth-quaking digging
Through
crust, mantle and deep into the core
Sweltering,
bright heat meets frigid dark winds
The seasons
pass by in the blink of an eye
And I dig
on, no breaks, no rest, no relief
Shovel breaks
stone, while head pummels wall
The blade of
the tool eventually wins out
But my brain
throbs with each futile thrust
‘X’ marked
this spot in deep, blood red
A journey
through earth, mind, heart and soul
But this
hole towers above me so cavernous
So deep, so
high, the mouth is no longer visible
Not that I’d
take sight off of below as I tunnel on
Finally I
strike something foreign as arms jerk to a halt
The chest is
battered like me, crippled under the world’s weight
Treasure
that I’ve so long desired lies vulnerable at my feet
I open the
box, squinting in anticipation of
The glaring
reflection of newly-struck gold
But this
treasure is booby-trapped and explodes
Sending
shockwaves up the freshly-formed walls
And boulders
fall from all levels, landing with brute force
Against the
sides of my already trembling frame
By the end I
can reach just a hand out of the rubble
Extended
skyward searching, yearning, grasping
New wounds
are laid open as blood cascades downward
Wounds only
time can render painless scars
Fingers
stretch and clench, finding nothing expectantly
Yet
suddenly, in the midst of my biggest failure
With eyes
clouded by blood, blinded by pain
A memory
overcomes me, leaving the pain forgotten
Words cut
through the blindness and wrap me like a robe
They scream,
echoing through the hole “Matthew 14:31!!!”
And the
words immediately come to mind
"Jesus
immediately reached out and grabbed him.
‘You have so
little faith,’ Jesus said. ‘Why do you doubt me?’ ”
And in the
pits of a pit, in the bottom of the bottom
Soaked in
blood, sweat, tears, bile and vomit
With bones
protruding from skin and organs straining to work
I realize, I
still cannot and still do not
And in that
moment grasping fingers find others
That wrap
with both the security of a vice
And the softness
of a mother’s tender touch
The rock
begins to move, exposing my crumbled body
Badly
damaged and battered, yet alive all the same
And the
ascension begins, flying upward past
The shovel
strokes I’d nearly killed myself to create
Seemingly
worthless but still lesson-teaching
For a hole
dug by greed and by motives of self
Could never
sustain against the winds of change
And for
different reasons, I know it may not be
The last
time I sit alone at the bottom of
A cavern
carved by my own hands
But no chasm
is so deep to be out of reach from above
And the
light at the end of the tunnel never further away
Than the
dark shadows that glimmering faith can penetrate
So this
venture failed, these lessons learned
Have
resulted in scars that may linger for a lifetime
But scars
once proved the identity of a King
And one day
they’ll remind me of the consequences of this plight
And I’ll
show them off for the world to admire
Not for the
way they were formed, but the way they healed
I can hear
the wind whistling over the top
It sounds
like the ocean breeze kissing the top of a bottle
A peaceful
thought, the first in so agonizingly long
And deep
inside I’m filled with knowing there’s more to come
Because of
this hand I’m determined to never let go
For it
reached for me when I was unreachable
And helped
me learn what’s not teachable
So pull me
up higher and I won’t look down or back
Til the
gaping hole in the ground becomes a sidewalk crack
Far and
abound and away from that place
My wounds
and scars no match for the hand of grace
