Sonny Liston's Sad Eyes Poem by Smoky Hoss

It is a penance.
A penance, for all the crushing battles fought,
for the destruction,
for the killings, but, it is also,
a fear,
a sense of self defense,
a loss unnameable;
there is emptiness, there's melancholy, but mostly,
there's sadness. -
The Champ. King-of-the-World.
The one who's done more damage to any man
than all the whore-houses put together.
He had everything … and nothing;
nothing except, a deep, deep need.
But, for what? For where? For whom? -
Left to his own devices
he could be rather destructive,
to himself, and anyone else
who challenged his demeanor.
Those deep, mysterious, sad eyes,
what were they searching for?
What was lying just behind them, creating the
'Look'? -
Sonny has gone on to other bouts now,
far beyond his last round.
Far beyond his own ring of fire.
We may never know
the life, or lack there of,
the longing,
the depth and distance Sonny saw from inside
of those sad, sad eyes, and we certainly
cannot know, nor yet see,
what those eyes saw when his last bell rang; but,
when I look deeply into the eyes of those incredibly perfect pictures of him,
pure portraits of black-and-white,
I see the woe, the imperfection, the violence,
the hatred,
of the entire human race, and yet, still,
I swear I also see,
in the moisture of those wet, nearly crying eyes
something else … a reflection.
Perhaps the image of God, looking back,
into everyone of us, fallen fighters that we all are,
looking back with eyes of joy, so penetrating, so victorious,
that I realize, even in Sonny Liston
there is no loss, no hate,
no sadness,
that cannot be defeated.