Way of Hand and Foot
By Beau Heese, grade 7, Missouri.
The judges call my name, and I walk to the ring.
As I stretch, kicking the open air in front of me,
I look at my opponents,
and I analyze their technique. Some are flexible, strong,
or quick, but we all have one constant—we have trained
for years. The judges call my name, and I step forward.
I nervously step into the square ring, and they call in
who I will be sparring.
As I see my opponent, my nerves... leave.
Why now, right before the match?
As I meet the eyes of the person across from me,
I see a child, a student, me. We are equals.
We bow, always keeping eye contact.
And when the judges say go, we begin.
But it is not a disorganized fight. It is a dance,
a tango, of sorts.
As we shift around the red mot,
striking, kicking, blocking, I forget
about the world outside.
The judges, the scorekeepers,
the other competitors, all melt away.
I enter into a new world, a world born out of our dance,
a world in which we are the only two beings,
and where our fight is the only truth.
A new reality.
Suddenly, a buzzer sounds,
and I am pulled away as quickly as I arrived.
The match is over. But I am not satisfied.
And when I return to my seat, all I can think about is
my next trip to this strange new world.
By Beau Heese, grade 8, Missouri. Beau adds, "While writing this piece, I realized how everyone can see the
world so differently, especially in their teenage years. I hope the poem will show them that everyone has their
own blessings and problems. Perhaps, it will help others accept different views better."
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