Sensei N Me Poem by Leslie Xavier

Arigato; and the revered bow,
my eyes touch the master's feet.
A way of life from the Ring of Fire,
the art I had grown up with.

Arigato; for the guided moves,
the mixed strides of a ballet of war.
This sword I will temper with care,
by gentle blows in lukewarm fire.

Arigato; for the life and fights,
insights and the hindsights too.
Turning left and a twist of hand,
guarding my back, breaking my fall.

Arigato; for I had all the time,
more than my blood, the younger.
The pain and sting as I kissed your hand,
was a pleasure, a mix of red and salt.

Arigato, from the third year,
the cycle near that Jewish house.
The hide n seek between meditative monks,
fighters; me then felt the pulse.

Arigato; for the teacher touch,
and the words as your trusted aide.
The counts made my supple flesh,
the pen gave my heart the wings.

Arigato; for those clenched fists,
as I twisted out of an exposed back.
When I bled and fell and stood again,
never a man but made something close.

Arigato; for this divine path,
lost, nay I'm back on track.
Digital wilderness and Saki fog, fight;
the legacy, Yeah I'm still alive.


(An Ode to my dear dad, my karate master and my guide in life. 'Arigato' is Japanese for 'thank you' and frankly speaking, I don't have enough words to thank him for the goodness he has added to my life. The picture above was taken when I was four odd years old, just after my promotion from white to yellow belt at my dad's dojo in Mattancherry, Kochi.)