[Poem] The Master's Gift

I took karate classes when I was younger.
I was convinced that I would become a black belt
a master of the martial arts.
I was going to be quick as lighting
as graceful as a swan
A Kung Fu master.
I was a student of Master K
He taught us at this self defense studio
Master K's studio of Ti Kwon Do
It was sandwiched between a
furniture shop and a pizza joint.
I practiced round house kicks in front of the mirrors
sparred with the other students
I was going to be a black belt.

Around Christmas some of the students took
a collection to buy Master K a gift
He was our Master, a white man with a handsome
Magnum PI mustache, long wavy hair,
and a belt that was black, to the third degree.
He taught us the ancient secrets of the marital arts
while punching and kicking imaginary foes.
He attacked with such fury sweat would run
down his nose and into his mustache.
He was a modern day ninja.

The day before Christmas break one of the students
presents him with a bag. "Merry Christmas," we all say
while bowing to the man we called our Master.
Master K bows back. "You shouldn't have," he replies.
He reaches into the bag and pulls out a bottle of whiskey.
Not just any bottle, one of those giant two liter bottles.
He stared at the bottle for a moment with a look
of surprise on his face as if the enemy himself had snuck
into his own dojo. As he thanked us his eyes remained
on the bottle. His sentences were short
and he struggled to find words.

Afterwards we paired up for a sparring session
but Master K and some of the older students
disappeared into the front office.
They stayed in that office the whole night while we
sparred away, perfecting our skills of self defense.
As we were leaving the door to the office opened and Master K
staggered out. "Hey, thanks again kids," he said,
"Have a Merry Christmas and we'll see you next year."
His eyes were red and shiny and he flashed a crooked smile
beneath his mustache. His black belt was half untied and
there were brown stains around the collar of his white uniform.
He leaned against the frame of his office as we left.
Master K, blasted out of his mind.
But he was our Master, and we loved him.

Lee L. Lind