Pugilism

I wrap my hands in reassurance

And strike the trapped sand of my temperament

Until it spins beneath its chains

And I can revel in unknowing again

As beads of sweat slide down my skin

Raindrops against the shutters to my soul

I close my senses and become rhythm

That my self may be lost in the spaces between beats

And return upon each impact

Every blow a prodigal child

An arm’s reach their journey

Stumbling across satisfaction

I swap the freedoms of the tools that found it

With those of my mind

Returning to the world refreshed,

Ready for whatever may come my way

Until such time as a few more rounds

Need be fed to the flames

benjam1@stolaf.edu

About Manitou Messenger

View all posts by Manitou Messenger →

× Featured

Oles win nine straight, claim first round bye