Two sticks…many memories.

Sounds like true oneness with your weapon!

Carving Another Path

Two sticks, covered with tape, and splintered at the end.
Two sticks, that have witnessed my anger and rage and frustration
Two sticks that have been with me from boy to teen to man
Two sticks carved from rattan that have witnessed my fights
Two sticks that have always followed me.
Two sticks that remain a companion.
Two sticks that know the pain from giving up
Two sticks that have always been by my side.
When I pass, I will have many possessions but I wish to be buried with those two sticks, because they were my first real weapon.

I don’t remember what I learned, or who I learned it from but I will always remember that I have those two sticks

When I was a kid, I took Escrima at the local YMCA. When it got too challenging, I quit, but my mom had already purchased the two…

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