ARABIAN NIGHTS

ARABIAN NIGHTS

The Arab stares.

I address him curtly,
“Now that Gabriel has finished her duty.
It’s my turn.”

I commence, “The first lesson is balance.”

Pulling a Japanese sword from a sheath on my waist I turn
To the Arab as he holds a crescent style sword,
His energy replenished after his holy fast of Ramazan.

He attacks before I can even say “DEFEND YOURSELF”

I allow him to slice my bare mid-section.
He stares in astonishment as it heals miraculously in a matter of moments.
I move faster than his eye can follow,
Delivering a series of blows with my fists and feet knocking him to the sand.

In fear he drops his sword as I push the tip of mine to his jugular.

I stare with the peace of water in my eyes,
“Your flesh itself can be a deadly weapon.
My training will teach you to kill with your bare hands.”

As I prepare for the long lesson in Martial Arts,
I conclude, placing my sword back into it’s sheath
And offering him a hand to help him up,
“You will address me as Sensei.”