Integrity

By

Alastair Bloxsom

Like knights who sought enlightenment

Who fought with arms of steel.

Today, I train with them in mind,

To forge an armored soul.

The dojang's where one walks the path--

To search for inner truth.

It's not for social gatherings--

To flirt or look for dates.

I knew the rules and followed them,

For years I'd kept the lines.

But something in me stirred those times

I saw her on the mat.

Her pixie grin, her almond eyes

All drew me out toward her.

I merely watched her from afar

Not wanting to infringe.

I did not look, or even think, of starting a romance.

I lived to work, to write, to train--to quest and not to yield.

"God's flaming hand of love" was there

Tattooed upon her arm.

It launched the great debate--the koan:

"Can martial arts be love?"

The grilling that she put me through

It flattered me in truth:

"Was I in a relationship?

"How many?" and "How long?"

The fourth degrees placed me with her

Because my partner quit;

I knew it would be hard to keep

So many balls in air:

To practice our black belt techniques;

For her to fall and spar;

To keep her safe, else they'd break me;

Yet hide my love from her.

Fate threw us both together when I'd strapped my armor tight.

Our black belt test was months away, but mine was every night.

She motivated me to train,

More so than if alone;

A fellow soul to walk the path

And join me on my quest.

The practice honed my soul and mind--

Through each day's strict regime.

With her, the art was so much more--

with her my spirit soared.

I yearned to have her more than just

My partner for the test.

But is that how a knight should act?

Is that the moral choice?

My sisters all said I should wait

Until our test was through.

"You see each other every day;

Why ask her to go out?"

I set my mind to wait and see--to turn my feelings off.

It would not be the easy choice, but come the test, I'd know.

Beyond the dojang, out in groups,

She'd ask about my past.

Although her questions wracked my soul;

I hid my feelings well.

"Was dating on my mind?" she asked.

"Perhaps a friend of mine?"

"Hell, no!" I screamed inside my head.

"I'd rather be with you!"

She'd healed a year since her last beau

But now was on the prowl.

To wait the months until the test--

Perhaps would be too late?

"Not-knowing" was so hard to take;

"Does she--or does she not?"

The questions plagued me daily as

we worked on our techniques.

My focus shifted from the test--emotions blazing hot.

My daily training failed me when I needed it the most.

Like Cyrano and his Roxanne

I wrote my feelings down.

To put myself out on that limb--

To take a chance--a risk.

The letter weighed inside my hands;

It was so hard to choose.

To risk our training as we work

Together every day?

Ambivalence and swirling doubt--

How would a knight act here?

I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep.

I'd lost my self-control.

The fears and doubts clung tight to me.

Constricted, paralyzed.

Enough! By God! Don't be so weak!

Just take a stand and act!

I trained to be the noble knight and not the love-struck man.

My years of practice and beliefs fought hard against my heart.

The test did not concern me much.

Through years of martial arts,

I knew the game and how to play.

That path for me was clear.

With her, I could not follow rules.

I'd no experience.

I felt just like Columbus when

He sailed the unknown seas.

With her, the future was in doubt.

The stakes involved were high.

To reach the clouds and feel the sky

Or crash upon the rocks.

I took a chance and dropped my guard--

Exposed my heart to her.

I put the letter in her hand

To do with as she wished.

The knight had fought to wait and see, yet settled for a note.

The love-struck man had yearned to know, regardless of her choice.

The letter left the choice to her

Respecting her desires.

I cared too much to force on her

more than she truly wished.

My letter had surprised her and

Had thrown her "for a loop."

She hadn't thought her questions had

sent any kind of sign.

The end was still the same for her--

She didn't want to date.

She hoped I wasn't mad at her.

"No, just a little sad."

She said the more she learned of me

The more I drew her close.

She even said she'd had some dreams

Of having sex with me.

I took defeat with grace, I hope. At least I'd made a stand.

Yet talk of dreams of sex with me? Why did she tell me that?!

She made a tape called "Crossing Lines."

Its music filled my mind.

Of "broken hearts," "our love is dead"--

I could not hear it twice.

I opened up my soul to her--

To answer all her doubts;

I gave "Carte Blanche" for her to ask

Whatever she might choose.

I've learned that others also wrote

Her letters to go out.

I now feel even more disgraced.

I've only made things worse?

It's true my teachers said to wait:

"Stay focused on the test!

"Forget all else that clouds your mind."

I can't. I won't. Not now!

The test was not what mattered most, but she and what might be.

It filled my heart and all my mind with great uncertainty.

To date or train--the lines were clear.

She wants to cross; then not.

You slide across the lines enough,

The bound'ries disappear.

I did not know what she had planned.

I wondered if she knew.

My fire for her was burning hot,

And threatened to consume.

As weeks passed by, we had long talks

And back rubs in the car.

We grew together, sharing thoughts

And secrets locked down deep.

I dwelled within a zone of gray;

I thought of her each day.

The signals that she gave were mixed;

I tried to act but how?!

I only could control myself. My feelings could not rage.

To play this game and wait for her, I boxed my feelings tight.

One night I told her what I'd like

But yet experienced:

True acupuncture, a massage,

Tattooing, having sex.

"Do you want to have sex with me?"

She asked me with a smile.

Whoa! "I don't have to answer that.

You know already, right?"

She reached and cupped my hand in hers

"I want to cross the line."

She brushed her lips across my palm--

My fingers met her tongue.

I breathed in deep to concentrate.

"You're sure you want this now?"

Her sultry gaze rose up to mine.

"Talk. All you do is talk."

I'd dreamed of this for years and yet I paused to think of her.

Cruel thoughts and warnings struck my brain of all who'd said to wait.

She did not simply cross the line;

She jumped, no, launched, across.

She kissed, caressed and held me close,

A hunger bound, unleashed.

The taste and smell of salty sweat;

The sight of creamy skin;

The feel of her wet tongue with mine;

The sounds of breathy moans.

She lost herself in passions found

With eyes half-closed in lust.

A grateful smile upon her lips--

A purring, stretching cat.

We loved each other partly clothed.

Embraced, becoming one.

A new realm opened up for me--

A place of raw desire.

I'd never been this intimate--it was so new to me.

I followed her across the line wherever that she led.

She asked that I should keep our bond

A secret when we trained.

I'd scream my feelings from the street,

But granted her her wish.

She wanted others seeing her

As focused on the test.

Not merely as a friend of mine--

But judged on her own strengths.

It hurt that she did not reveal

Her feelings to the world.

Is what she felt for me so bad?

Or insignificant?

It racked my soul when we went out

With others in the group.

I could not gaze into her eyes,

Nor even hold her hand.

Frustration grew within my soul along side with my love.

Both in the dojang and without, I had to live a lie.

She told me that I'm "time cop" for

Deciding when to go.

When we're alone, my job was to

Get her to sleep on time.

She also gave me "sex cop" rule--

Deciding when it's right.

She said she could not trust herself--

But wasn't that her choice?

Why make someone a time cop if

We both desired more?

Why make someone a sex cop if

Our feelings led us there?

I was the "heavy" on our dates.

I loathed the role I played.

Why couldn't two adults each share

Responsibility?

She twisted love into a weight. I bucked against her charge.

I hated being judge for both--if she said go, I'll go.

I lay with her--so intimate,

The world just disappeared.

Embraced with her--so natural,

She felt a part of me.

Her hunger mounted like a storm,

At ease with all her sex.

This realm of passion took control

And drowned her in its flood.

I'd trained my body through the years,

To throw it through the air--

To temper bone and flesh into

A sword and suit of steel.

She was an angel when we touched--

Caressing, passionate.

She found my softness deep within--

The warrior transformed.

My discipline and hardened flesh were usless to me now.

She changed my steely punches to caresses soft and kind.

I rubbed her back when laying close.

She said "it's heav'n on earth."

The more she did and gave to me,

The more I wished to please.

There's nowhere else I'd rather be

Then shared in her embrace.

She made me feel like I'm the One--

The only man alive.

She whispered that I'm sweet and kind

To think of her desires,

For acting out of character,

To bend my will for her.

One Friday night our passions stormed

Till 4 a.m. came round.

We took a tub bath afterwards

To cool our heated souls.

As I drove home, her scent on me, again I felt her close.

Although this might all fade with time, these memories I'd prize.

A clinical psychologist,

Her favored question was:

"What are you thinking?" whispered soft

Each time I held her close.

I told her how content I felt

How wonderful she looked.

She smiled and shrugged and played it off--

"I'm not so beautiful."

To give each other space was key.

We each had many goals.

The martial arts, her music, work--

Were just to name a few.

But even so, it's easy to

Fill up a life with tasks.

To give the tasks priority

And not the one you love.

Was I to say what she should do? What she should sacrifice?

And more so when we're starting out. Who knew how it would end?

Two days had passed since our first bath.

That Sunday night I called,

To tell her how she'd made me feel--

How full of joy and love.

Her voice was harsh, upset and rude.

She said that staying up

Had thrown her weekend all off track

She's tired and missed a class.

I couldn't believe what I had heard.

Was this the same kind girl

Who'd led me up into her bed?

Who'd asked for me to stay?

It hurt me that she'd think that sleep

or class more meaningful

Then lying next to me in bed

since she had wanted to!

My high elation turned into depression and betrayal.

What deadly game was this she played--with knives she stabbed most deep?

What is important in this world?

What makes one struggle on?

The caring, passion, tenderness--

These all give life its worth.

To lie together arm in arm--

Some dream of it for years.

Some write down verse--some go to war;

The old look back and smile.

There's always time to make up work--

Rescheduling a chore.

But love is not some class that you

Can skip and catch again.

The jobs and lectures come and go,

Some people leave as well.

But not the ones who give their love--

Who'll stay with you all night.

I couldn't stop--deny us both--the closeness that I felt.

She said that was a "selfish" act--and speared my heart clean through.

The party with the dojang gang

The subject turned to love:

They asked if I was dating now

Of course, I couldn't say.

She mutely sat and watched me there;

The stakes with her were high.

A verbal test I could not lose

Defending her desires.

Her birthday came, I took her to

the Huntington Museum.

I gave her tiger earrings set

with shining ruby eyes.

The tigers for her year of birth,

Their eyes reflected fire.

The tigers also stood for strength

That dwelt within her soul.

When driving home, she fell asleep. My fingers brushed her cheek.

The realm of feelings took control. With her my armor's gone.

My friend had planned a party and

I'd asked her to attend.

Together we'd go out and meet

The people whom I'd told.

That night she did not want to go

Because she had the flu.

But also someone from the group

Would be there too and see.

The sadness that I felt was real

But if she's sick, I'd stay.

If faced with parties or with her--

I'd choose her every time.

She then explained that being sick

Had triggered many thoughts;

And how she wished to talk about

Our past relationship.

The warrior in me called out to don my armor quick.

And though my senses warned me true, I could not back away.

She closed her eyes and took a breath.

She told me of her guilt,

And how she'd pulled away from me

The past few weeks or so.

She disliked keeping secrets from

The dojang group and friends.

She felt constrained and awkward that

She'd had to guard herself.

Outside the dojang, when she saw

The group, she felt so tense.

She thought that she was living lies--

Upset and not relaxed.

The pressure of the test increased,

The closer came the date.

She wanted just to focus on

Our test and nothing else.

I heard her words, and they were true, yet they're concerns of hers.

If both of us each wanted it, who cared what others thought?

For years she had been struggling

With being "intimate."

She "pulls away" when close to me--

Old baggage she had kept.

The guilt she had was that she lacked

The strength and energy--

To share with me the level of

Emotions that I'd shown.

She called me sweet and told me how

She didn't want me hurt.

She dropped her head and silence fell

Till she began to weep.

In all my years no one had cried

For me or for my pain.

It broke my heart to see her cry;

I cupped her hand in mine.

A warrior must guard himself with hardened mind and flesh.

And yet this woman's tears and flaws had shattered my resolve.

The flowers that I'd sent were there--

Made mock, it seemed, of me.

Twelve white, one red carnation fresh;

"To the one who stands out."

My scattered thoughts in disarray,

I tried to state my case.

"When testing's done, do not believe

That life will be less hard.

"If we both pass and get the black,

The pressure will be on.

Responsibilities will mount--

We'll be examples now.

"And keeping secrets from the group

Will never go away,

Unless you act and take a stand

And show integrity."

My logic did not work for her. The problems were too much.

My strength of will and discipline could not avoid this end.

"Why did you have to be so sweet?"

She said with tearing eyes.

"It is so hard." To break with me?

Why did it have to be?

She held my hand and I held hers;

We stroked each other's face.

She gently laid me on her couch

And sadly kissed my lips.

Was this the end? I didn't know.

It didn't feel like one.

Why would she call it off and then

Caress me in her arms?

I kissed her mouth to say goodby,

"Most likely this will be,

The last I feel your softened lips."

"Oh no, do not say that!"

Of course I would not kiss again. She'd ended it; we're through.

She'd crossed the line again, and yet, her actions were most strange.

A day or two had passed until

The pain began to grow.

For me to fully realize

That she and I were through.

It felt as though she'd kicked my guts;

My spirit was sucked out.

My interest in the world was gone--

The joys and fires dulled.

I tried to focus on the test--

I lived from day to day.

Like deja vu, after the note--

I wasn't mad, just sad.

My dreaded nightmare had come true:

A taste of Eden lost.

And now I had to train with her--

To see her every day.

The pain was constant, draining me, to feel her next to me.

My test was not the belt at all, but how I treated her.

The days crept by, as did the weeks.

The hurt refused to heal;

It did not pass, but lingered on--

A tear within my heart.

My feelings weren't hooked to a switch

To shut them on and off.

It just took time to pull away--

To numb my heart for her.

You can't give out your love to one

Who doesn't love you back.

To cast your feelings in a void--

It drains you, sucks you dry.

If truthfully she did not care,

I'd simply heal my wounds.

I thought she did--it simply was

Too hard to juggle all.

I'd never felt this way before. I'd told her of my love.

My choice was hard: to wait for her or simply let her go?

I knew that she's confused and lost;

She did not know her mind.

Like grasping at a butterfly--

I had to wait--be still.

But what was it I wanted now?

She did not want to date,

Yet crossed the line the next few weeks.

She might come back, who knows . . . .

To start again, things had to change;

I could not be so blind

To put my faith, my trust in her,

Because she'd let me down.

I gave her pow'r to steer the ship--

She crashed it on the rocks.

Her past experience with dates,

Came back and haunted us.

I thought she knew the road we walked, but I was very wrong.

The trust I gave her was misplaced. She'd taught this lesson well.

She hoped that we could still be friends.

And yet she'd pushed me back.

I never saw her off the mat

And only trained with her.

I took Carte Blanche from her as well.

I could not play that game.

How could I bare my soul again

When she'd rejected me?

She'd told a person in the group

About us--I don't care.

Again, the trust was broken both

With me and with herself.

For all that happened, I was glad.

I'd learned some rules. I'd grown.

It's just a waste--not that it's gone--

But what it could have been . . . .

I wished to help her for our test--as partners and as friends.

To separate my feelings and to show her who I was.

The weeks went by. The test came on.

We both did very well.

They passed us both and all our work

Was worth it in the end.

She said she liked to train with me

The last few months or so.

She called and said she's lonely but

I had to stand my ground.

I thought about our nights in bed;

I missed not just the sex--

But being with, the closeness to,

Another human soul.

In future, I must act the same--

To open up--take risks.

To hide yourself--there is no chance

At closeness, hope, or love.

I could not go to her again. It had to be her choice:

To come to me or walk away--which ever way, I'd win.

The martial arts build up one's soul--

To walk a path alone.

Relationships, you care and share

For someone not yourself.

My training failed me in the end;

I thought it'd help me more.

The arts gave strength for me to act

But not control with her.

I used the shattered armor parts

To forge a stronger set.

I practiced hard and looked ahead--

Forgot about the pain . . . .

Although I'd seen a realm most new--

I'd not seek out new dates.

I'd train and write just like before--

But keep a clearer eye . . . .

The knight was battered, beaten down--but not defeated yet.

I'd faced a challenge, persevered--gained insights fresh and new.

A battle won, a battle lost--with her the end was both.

My training was more meaningful--the lessons held more sway:

Show Courtesy, Integrity

Both bound in Wisdom true.

Have Perseverance, though it's hard,

And Self-Control for peace.

Possess a Spirit, clear and strong,

Which won't accept defeat.

To practice all these traits each day--

Perfect my Character.

End.

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