The Arena Lies Quiet
written by: Richard Korst
The arena lies quiet now, only the memories of past heroics and fallen heroes remain. The halide lights’ hazy, dreamlike aura slowly fades as each set of switches is pulled. Oh, what clashes we’ve witnessed, what titanic battles waged, the pugilist’s punch and counterpunch rendered ineffective, the arms grew weary, the legs wobbly and unsure.
Through the ropes, then into the ring she climbs, confident and strategic like Athena, mirroring Penthesilea at her fiercest until struck down by Achilles. He, too, eventually succumbs to his own weakness. And what was the pugilist’s weakness other than the extent and duration she was forced to endure in battle? It was cancer that felled her, not in her prime but surely before her time.
She fought well, no shame in her defeat. Standing toe to toe with her relentless foe, giving no quarter, no fear, and no mercy. But now she rests in her corner, unable to answer the bell, unable to raise her gloves for another round. Her corner weeps, saddened not by her death but by her stoic courage, her infectious optimism, and her inspirational hope.
Removed from the arena, she rests at home surrounded by those she loves and who love her in return. She dreams of days when no fight was necessary, when she was free to live life unencumbered by the prospect of her demise. On the night she passed, I read to her, uncertain whether the words were heard, desperate to drown out the sound of her labored breathing, determined to fill the otherwise deafening silence.
I turned to prayer as death’s shadow approached, repeating Our Fathers and Hail Marys like a nine-year-old reciting penance, not seeking forgiveness but lobbying for acceptance, peace, and freedom from cancer’s dauntless procession.
In the end, no prolific last words were uttered. I leaned in, kissed her head while whispering “I love you. I miss you,” certain that those words were heard.
Now she rests eternally, her scarred and battered body healed, no memory of her struggles interfering with past loved ones’ reunions and future connections. The prothesis initiated, body washed, dressed, and lamination conducted.
The arena lights slowly illuminate their purpose redefined. They now celebrate and honor the warrior’s return not as a combatant but as a victor; “Oh death, where is your sting?” they ask as she nods in recognition and in peace, a broad smile upon her face.
READ THE PREQUEL HERE
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
My wife recently passed after battling cancer for over four years. She always retained hope and displayed courage throughout the fight and served as a true inspiration.
- The Arena Lies Quiet - June 2, 2026
- A Reflection. A Glimpse. - February 26, 2026
- Author Of The Year 2025 Interview - February 17, 2026
