The Cock Fight

It’s no ordinary cock.
It’s a fighting cock.
A champion breed.
Trained by the owner
to be a money spinner.

Enthusiasts are specialists.
They could read, interpret and firmly believe
that colours and pattern of feathers,
scales on feet, eyes and beaks,
even abnormalities and deformities
have special powers.
Criteria for winners.

The day finally came.
An instant arena made
in the middle of the jungle.
Out of prying eyes meddle.
An open space surrounded by a wooden fence
to keep enthusiasts out and the fighting within.
From near and far they came.
‘Tis a mini festival in another name.

Two camps at each end they set up.
Both decided the fighting order.
Which fighter should first take the arena.
The owners knew the strength of their fighters.
Morning, afternoon or evening fight greatest?

Once decided both fighters
were brought to the centre of the court.
They were squared off and agreement reached.

Wagers were offered and counter-offered.
A three-inch, paper-thin and moon-shape knife,
sharp as a razor blade,
made to fit the fighters’ feet,
were skillfully tied by a specialist
to find the opponent’s heart,
sever main muscles and make incapable.

The fight was swift.
A mid-air clash.
Feathers flew and blood splashed.
The loser sometime admitted defeat.
Sometime the battle could last a few minutes,
with neither willing to admit defeat.
Until the knife found the artery.
Blood drained out from the body.
The gallant loser simply slumped to the ground.
Death was certain even before the ground it found.

Money exchanged hands.
Pride and happiness to the victorious camp.
A tinge of sadness to the loser.
Not for the death of his fighter.
But at the loss of his money.
He will find a better fighter.
To get his money back that’s for sure.

Today, cock-fighting is illegal
Deemed inhumane and cruel.
Rearing of fighting cocks is still unfazed.
Not for anything but their beauty craze.