Saying Uncle

Part of the problem is
you can't say uncle anymore.
In matters of honor,
the important thing
was to fight, win or lose,
and sometimes it was lose,
no matter how hard you fought.
When you felt yourself bettered,
beaten, hurt and in pain,
you could always say uncle.
No, pal, you didn't pull a knife or gun;
that's the coward's way.
If defeated, you admitted defeat,
but your honor was safe:
You fought,
stood up for yourself,
a friend, a loved one.
You said uncle reluctantly,
and the fight ended,
sometimes with a handshake.
But no more.
They just keep beating and beating.
Any big brother is off fighting wars.
No one steps in to say,
"Hey, leave that kid alone; he's had enough,"
fearing the pack will turn on them,
and so the beating continues.
A nation of cowards...indeed, but
in the event you couldn't hear me
over the crack of knuckle on bone,
the smack of fist in blood,
and the crunching of teeth: Uncle.
I said, Uncle!


(SKJ/May 2012)