Tuesday, August 26, 2008

The Good Fight

It is raining in central park. I am in central park. I am wrestling in central park. My face is in the grass. My hands are in the flesh of the beautiful dancer. My toes are in the mud digging.
Our hair and clothes are plastered to our bodies. I am on top. He is trying to throw me. He arches and twists. I resist using my head as a lever pushing off of the ground. This is the third time he has arched and this time my neck is not long enough and we roll over my head. He is on top.
My muddy feet are alive like badgers trying to find a way out. My toes lead my feet nosing at his leg looking for a path past it. They find and I push out pulling his leg straight and long away from his body. His arm is out to keep us form rolling. I grab his wrist and push breaking his friction lock with the ground. Rain is falling in my eyes. His arm is away from me. I try again and again. I palm his shoulders and push him towards my feet. It is not far but enough. His arm goes out and I catch it and pull. I am pulling so hard I feel the ribs of my chest bow out. His arm comes in. I arch hard and there is nothing to brace with. We go over. He kicks off with his top foot, the foot I am not pulling long. He is back on top.
An hour later and we are done. My body feels hot and torn. I feel so weak and sick from the exertion. It is delicious. I feel like a deer on the side of the road. Hit by a truck but still breathing. Covered in cold sweat and rain but still burning hot like a stove. There is some kind of magic that keeps us from breaking.
The rain has stopped and he is pulling blades of grass off of my face. The wind is blowing in the leaves and heavy drops of water are coming down. This man loves me.
I have always been jealous of the platonic affection women can express with each other. I have seen them hold hands, lean and even lay on each other. They can run their hands through each other's hair. I have seen it. I know it is not all the time or with everyone but it is real. I'm not talking about gay people, just loving and nurturing people. It is something I never had. Don't get me wrong, I have been blessed with a lot of female affection but it is not the same. It is not what I have been missing.
I feel like I have it now. This man loves me and touches in a comfortable and grounded way. It does not feel like he is feeling me up or trying to get into my shorts. It feels safe. It feels like healing. It feels good.
And then there is the wrestling. I feel my body, my muscles changing. This is good for me. I feel stronger. I feel open and honest. I feel alive and moving, clawing at the world before me like an animal running explosively through a forest. And in that moment of fight I don't have to protect him. I don't have to be nice to him. I don't have to hold back for fear of breaking his bones or bruising his feelings. And I get to use all of me, fight with everything I have pushing one hundred percent. And we laugh. And it feels safe and sane and healthy. I want this feeling for my every day honesty. I am working so hard to have this in my everyday life. This feels like good training. And yes it feels good.
Thank you god. Thank you my friend.

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