The Boxer Poem by Ellen Devilliers

I am waiting for you. Waiting for a sign.
Lost behind the screens of well-wishers, sympathy, kindness.
Well behind the ropes of the ring, out of bounds.
When will you come? Will I know?
Will you give me warning, or take me by surprise?
Or am I just waiting for the call that will never come?

Working and fighting were your only attributes, you said,
The essential being to translate thoughts and ideas,
Concepts and sketches into concrete form.
I saw the intensity of thought precede the intricacy of action.
I watched the wheels take shape beneath your hand,
Saw how you made them spin in perpetual motion.

I watched you fight. Fight long and hard, never giving in.
You fought an invisible enemy, an insidious inevitability,
You fought against reason, fought against time,
You fought for us. For me.
But you were finally counted out.
You stayed upright to the end,
Having bobbed and weaved to evade the opponent’s
Uppercuts and jabs, for more than 40 years,
Even if the tactics were less than distinguished.
Who said “Blessed is he whose cause is just,
But thrice blessed he who gets his blow in fust”?
It gave you away; they gave you away, in the final round,
Your time, this time, was up.

And so I wait for the next time……the last call.
Life is but a journey I am making toward you,
And death will be nothing more and nothing less
Than your ring of tenderness restored around me.
I am waiting for these tears to end.
I am waiting for your call.
I am waiting for your welcome, father fighter,
Don’t leave me empty,
Waiting, just waiting…
Just call.