That Hole Is Not Of Our Making Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Although their fingerprints appear,
On the shovels used to dig themselves...
Into a hole so deep,
Those still digging can not be seen...
The ones standing above it and looking below,
Wish to have the ones they have deceived...
Believe they had nothing to do with it.

'But it is clear to everyone,
Your fingerprints appear on the shovels.
And your hands and pockets are covered with dirt.'

~We've only come to sample the richness of it.
But that hole is not of our making.'

'Can you explain why the ones in the hole below,
Have chosen to scream out your names?
Begging to be rescued from their predicament? '

~We too are mystified just like you.
However...
We have come together to insist,
Everyone should participate...
To free us from this embarrassment.~