Knife Fight


As if in a haze he gazed

at the coming enemy,

with bloodshot eyes he fixed,

his brain now dulled by drink

but the blade he held firmly in his fist.

Bacunawa slightly swaying on his feet.

 

Luy-a lunged swiftly like a coiled snake

straight at its prey for the kill,

and in a smooth motion he strikes

the tabas cutting the air in a short arc.

 

The old fighter instinctively step aside

the sharp tabas just inches from his head

and his right hand plunged with blinding speed

and the knife buried deep into the guts.


“I am sorry my son.”,  Bacunawa said,

as he withdraws his knife now dripping with blood.

In the sunset the dusk slowly turns red,

and as if from a distance he saws himself,

his eyes slowly now brimming with tears,

For Luy-a his son, lays dying at his feet.

 

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