Being in a gi again.
Tying my belt, again.
The meditation, knelt, eyes closed
As on the precipice of a great plunge.
–
I am changed now :
My skin is not as young,
Not quite as pretty as I was.
My joints not quite as limber.
But my sweat still smells the same.
–
A clenched fist – remembered – is the same.
–
“A fist is a fist is a fist.”
–
Five years ago, when I began, tying my white belt, that’s what they said.
And now, dusting off my green-brown, I hear again
And again:
“A fist
is a fist
is a fist”.
I look at my fist.
I remember keeping my nails short.
I remember wearing no makeup with confidence.
I remember
Balance
and
I could defend myself
if I had to.
–
Bowing into this keyhold door,
This is my dojo
my school
my home.
Deep somewhere in the roots beneath the floor boards
and the fibers of the carpet
is engrained my sweat
and my blood
and my tears
And there is magic here
underfoot
Because it is here I first saw
The glimmers of who is my true self.
And I miss it
As a tree after a drought might remember its first bloom.
–
A level of introspection unparalleled as
what you do when a punch is coming at you.
–
I miss the intimacy of Kumite
Because to fight in this way is to know someone better
than a lover might know one.
I set my hands on guard,
I look you in the eyes,
and it is essential that I know you.
A strike and block exchanged —
The wing of a crane
or The bite of a snake,
and I know you.
Oh, and I would rake as tigers claws might do.
I flew on wings and “rode the wind”.
My feet they moved as leopards do.
–
“A fist is a fist is a fist.”
–
And over clenched fist is set
an open one.
This means “Peace over Power”
To temper jagged steel
as I might have been.
–
But I’m back now. Things are different,
as I’ve said —
Ephemeral things like
the skin around the eyes.
–
But there are other things that are just the same.
And in these timeless stances,
That’s where I will find myself.
–
Untitled Martial Arts Poem by Vanessa Cate