Regrets

Regrets

By Joshua Tobler

 

 

By her tiny place we go,

Who are these strange boys I don’t know.

They are older, five or six,

Carrying stones and wooden sticks.

 

“Hey Alisa, who’s your friend?”

I look behind me. Dead end.

They grab her arm and pull her away.

She looks at me as if to say,

 

“Help me Josh, be strong for me.”

How I can save her I can’t see.

I know I must try to make her stay;

In the shame of fear, I turn away.

 

It’s no big; she fends them off;

She always could, she’s strong enough.

But I, her friend, am small and weak,

Afraid and timid, shy and meek.

 

Five years later, I stand in class,

Front kick, back kick, kick the butt.

Forms and one-steps, self-defense

I guess I’m pretty darn intense.

 

Blue belt, strong and confident

Sixth grade class, teacher’s pet.

They corner her outside the school.

I have to help. I’m just that cool.

 

I run to her aid, but then stop dead.

“Lexie lover!” the tyrant said.

I could not let her think of that;

Casually, as they beat her, I sat.

 

In shame that awful day I rue

For what the Tyrant said was true.

I loved her so, but was afraid.

That day, an awful friend I made.

 

Side kick, Roundhouse, Spinning hook,

“Yes sir!” the kids shout, by the book.

“Come gather near me, students dear.

I must erase from you your fear.”

 

I teach them that which I have learned.

Each thing they learn from me in turn

Must turn around to save a friend

And suffer not qualms in the end.

 

Nine years this March, half my years.

Second dan black belt, bought with tears,

And blood and sweat, and all my fright,

Am I ready, now, to stand and fight?