the humble priest who, clothed in black and drab
old moth-holed garb and well-worn holy shoes,
saw yellow-orange men with breath infused
survive while hammered under concrete slabs,

adorned with seizure's scrapes and new dried scab,
a monk's black cap and simple wooden cross,
from Shaolin's breath could not be pushed or tossed,
or even budged when by his arm was grabbed,

then one whose throat withstood the point of spear,
did ask the priest what powers blocked his chi,
the humble priest explained and this he said,

"from chi's destructive force i had no fear,
for i did what you could not hear or see,
recite the name of One raised from the dead"

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos