THE BOXER

THE BOXER

From the time that he was just a boy,
He loved the boxing ring and bell,
The roar that sent the fighters out,
The stories every contest could tell.

He sat beside his father there,
And watched each heavy blow fall,
He dreamed that one day people too,
Would rise and shout his name and call.

But he had entered this old world,
With neither arm nor helping hand,
And even as a little boy,
He learned too soon to understand.

“You’ll never be a boxer, son,”
Were words that he had often heard,
And every time they told him so,
His dream was wounded by each word.

He watched the champions raise their gloves,
And tried so hard to hide his pain,
Until one evening Dad sat down,
And made him think it through again.

“Stop counting what you haven’t got,
And look at what God gave to you,
Two powerful legs, a fighting heart,
And something you were born to do.”

“A kickboxer?” the young man laughed,
His father answered him, “Why not?
Stop mourning over what you lack,
And use the things that you have got.”

His first few months were brutal ones,
He hit the floor and often fell,
His muscles screamed, his balance failed,
Some training days were living hell.

He learned to duck, to turn and spin,
To read the blow before it came,
He trained until his legs were steel,
And every sneer just fed his flame.

He won some fights and lost some too,
But learned what every champion knows,
The greatest victory comes to those,
Who hit the floor, then somehow rose.

Then came the night he’d dreamed about,
The championship was finally there,
The lights were hot, the crowd was loud,
His father watched him from his chair.

Round after round he fought through pain,
One final perfect kick was made,
The whole arena roared his name,
His years of fighting had been paid.

Later Dad sat next to him,
When all the cheering finally went,
“Sometimes God gives us other gifts,
For things that we were never sent.”

He thought about that frightened boy,
Who mourned the arms he never had,
The fighter had been there all along,
He’d only needed faith from Dad.