Small

We sat down and said our prayer together

I noticed how small his feet were first
Studying him as he spoke, I guessed about 36 I wasn't wrong
His hands also small, Well manicured hands of someone who has the taste for the unemployment line
Well that's how it should have been, But this guy had worked for his gold coin
A fighter he was
He spoke calmly and matter of fact
We all knew why we were here, This wasn't a place to impress
For together we were equal
Of how he couldn't sleep on a friday night if they were playing on the saturday
Of how he felt elated if there were only twenty against 40 of them
The falling into gypsy bare knuckle fighting
The pain of winning
The pain of defeat
His eyes welled up as he spoke of his children
remembering his wife before she walked
I reached over a took his hand
looking him in the eyes
words were not needed, For we all knew what the gesture meant


The guy to my left started to speak
Fluent in his delivery for all of his twenty four years
He looked impressive his sound waves melted me away
His story was heartbreaking as much as breathtaking
Of lost moments, Of lost loved ones
For seven years he had been making the pilgrimage to say his prayers

His demons awaiting for him outside
Doing press ups, Getting fitter, Awaiting his return to the fold
I just wanted to hug him, to say it's ok
For in here, Our place we were safe, For now
Twenty four, he was just a boy


My name is johnnydepth
I am a compulsive poet


As I began to speak..