ODE TO THE FIGHTER

The two gems peep

From within the hood,

Like a pair of wolf iris.

As the steps march

To the caged parch

The boo and the cheers

Confuse the red ears.

You don’t know what to trust,

Yourself or the sour sweat

Drained for perfection.

Your eyes are unable to judge the foe

Who has hidden lots more.

More than you see and perceive,

they have it up their sleeve.

Yet you know how to tackle

Your Adam’s apple

Reminds you of the last battle.

Then, it’s all slow and silent

Your enemy, like a dove gone violent.

Pounces on you like a beast

To burn you and cook a feast.

The air creases your frown,

You are ready

To be heir to the crown

Blood and sweat,

Rejoice their happy unity

Punches and kicks fly and thrust like a dart,

There is no Napoleon, only bones apart.

Kick, punch, pause and breathe

As runs the rhythm,

Like an old shamanic myth.

Then, the soul hears the deep gong

Just like a refreshing jazz song

The violent birds turn silent,

Similar to a Buddhist monk

The martyrs stand tall and stout

Victory or defeat, is just a slogan

That the referee shouts.

Don’t let your bruises down.

Pledge to come back and stand tall

with more shades of black, blue and brown