Best wishes

I want for you 

The best 

of health 

The palimpsest of injury wiped clean 

Humors balanced 

Wind sound 

Internal leys of energy aligned 

of spirit 

Hooks of doubt untangled from the mind 

Cessation and acceptance 

Inner peace 

Whatever faith might ground you in this world 

of life 

Success in your endeavors 

Fulfilling work 

An amplitude of joy 

A minimum of idiots who drag you down 

and for your blade 

A swift and sure attack 

Impermeable parry 

Wicked riposte 

Against all opponents, 

And yet (forgive me), when we step on to the piste 

I want to 

Crumple your defense 

Spike your attack 

Confound your strategy and 

Drive my offense home 

Afterwards, 

Outcome aside 

We hug 

Ok? 

And resume our sincere and mutual regard

Armory (2)

Bits fall off 

A tip velociting across the salle 

Spring in jubilant pursuit 

A clip that decompiles in the very 

Middle of the bout 

Tape shreds 

Wires break 

Screws split 

Set aside this injured weaponry awaits 

A therapeutic touch 

At least these mechanical defects 

Can be repaired 

MY bits deconstruct almost as often 

Shedding parts and 

Shredding key connections 

Torn and bent and stretched too far to 

Rebound 

Technically these biologic parts 

Might heal on their own 

But even odds they’re simply settled in an 

Altered state 

Demanding adaptation 

Is it any wonder that I want the best of both?

Snap-on parts that interchange 

With just a bit of fiddling and force 

The ease of healing that will come with time 

Regardless of attention 

Let’s try it out— One blade left in the bag (don’t peek!) 

For seven weeks to see if it will heal 

One finger sternly told to snap in place and 

Hold the line 

Yeah,  I’ll tell you how that goes

Provisional

The shoulder tweaks, 

Triggering the drill: 

Roll & stretch & soak & rest 

Pamper ‘til its wheedled to perform 

Only to find the instability has leapt 

Like checkers, over back and hip to 

Settle in the knee 

Fencing at this age is like a game of dominos 

Or like applying plastic film--one sly burp of air 

Always remains 

No matter the massage 

Squidging to another spot 

Never truly 

Gone 

 Knowing this migration 

 Always in the back of mind a 

 Modicum of doubt 

That tweak…a momentary pinge or 

Foreshadow of a systematic fail? 

One bad night or 

The first step In yet another years-long slog of rehabilitation? 

For all my decades this is what I’ve learned 

We’re never really well 

Or cured 

Or permanently fixed 

The best we can attain is “functional for now” 

Probationary health 

And so my current goal: 

To redefine heroic 

And cultivate a reservoir of 

Kindness to myself 

There's ample room for fellowship 

Perhaps you'd like to join the quest?

Resolved

To sometimes

Let myself sleep late 
Linger under covers 
Pinned by cat

Skip the gym
And soak my aching
Bones instead

Break from bouts
Lay down the blade
And chat 

Eat a second slice of cake
Drink hot chocolate even if it
Doesn’t snow

Leave an item on the daily list 
Unchecked 
Maybe even two

Exercise a bit of 
self-compassion trusting that
the world won’t end 

Nevertheless

Ladies, listen up

This is not a poem

It’s a manifesto

One I hope you print and nail up on the

Entrance of your salle

Read it every time you enter

and

Review again on your way out

I see you

Rage against the normal vagaries of

Imperfection

Blame yourself for falling short of your own

Impossible ideals

I see you

Incriminate yourself

As lacking talent

Never working hard enough

Being just pain dumb

I see you

Self-flagellate

Lest your results not prove to

Spouse, partner, children, colleagues

Coach

That all that time was worth

The late nights, cold dinners,

Miles spent upon the road

Dollars spent on lessons and on gear

Plane fares, hotel rooms and registration

Co-pays to the doctor, trainer, therapist et al

Bullshit

Here’s my thesis:

You are heroes

Every one of you

Heroes—did you hear?

Not “heroines”—diminutives need not apply

You persevere through

Broken blades, bum knees, bad weather,

Clubmates who get better faster than they should

Teenagers who, now one year older, can’t be touched

Coaches who indulge their temper and their tongues

Podiums that stubbornly remain

Just of reach

I also see you

Fix the broken blade and bind the knee

Brave blizzards lest you miss one lesson

Cheer your teammates when inside you want to cry

Even after the worst practice

The most abysmal competition

You throw the stinking uniform into the wash and

Rise to do it all again

So,

Next time the black dog tries to take you down

Next time you’re tempted to apologize

To anyone, for who you are and what you do

Next time you feel you have to justify the choices that you’ve made

Remember

In the face of all the crap thrown at you by the world

You persist

And all of us,

This league of super veterans

With sore joints, grey hair, and 

Badass attitudes

We’ve got your back

Yahrzeit

I found your glove the other day

Lying in the salle

Still shaped to your hand

Looking like you

Just laid down your foil

Went to take a drink

A year ago

In Anaheim

I heard the news

Had to leave the room and walk

Trying to outpace time

And truth

Found myself beside the strip

Cheering on the guys as they teamed up to

Battle other veteran blades

Proving bravery is not sole province

Of the young

It felt funny, cheering

While I mourned

But proper

Too

This year, standing on the podium

I wished I'd brought your glove

I miss you 

Scaling

Once they’re hooked

Beginners start to browse the uniforms

Coveting their own clean whites

A pristine mask

Unwrinkled glove

I also sense them

Shopping for appropriate ambitions

Trying on their goals and

Testing fit

That’s a beauty of our sport

Each of us can find a dream that’s

Comfortably beyond our normal reach

But not beyond our grasp

Some aim for the top while others

Strive with all they have to

Make a touch in every bout

Some scale the alphabet while teammates

Revel in their classless state

Youngsters spurt and test the limits of their

Ambling limbs their

Newfound strength

Veterans retrench and renegotiate the

Definition of success

Some drift away despite their magic touch, their

Grace—unfulfilled by their unearned success

Others struggle now and evermore

Addicted by the lure of what they never quite achieve

But might, the next time out

The lesson? If you find your joy in battle turning to frustration

Look within—the cure may lie in tweaking expectations

Recalibration

I can no longer keep a

Warrior’s pace

Always pushing past my limitations

Sore and tired but
Content, confident that

Pain is only strength in embryonic form

The signals have been switched the

Rules upended, now my

Lexicon is speaking ancient tongues

An ache or sore is warning that my

Shelf life is exceeded, boundaries o’er-reached

Reminder that my expiration date is, damn,

Too close

I am no longer over-engineered

But merely overwhelmed

My homework? Studying the

Tensile strength of aging tendons, pinpointing the

Threshold past which quintile muscles cannot go

Learning leisured speed and lazy durability

Recognizing that I can’t outrun the young

Domino Effect

Consequences

Ripple down through time

Lapping at a future shore

Shifting pebbled memories

Nothing's ever done and gone

No problem truly solved

No trauma healed

Excision leaves a hollow to be filled

Stitches yield a scar,

Even faded bruises make us flinch

From shadowed harm

I fear

The best we can achieve is

Swapping cozy suffering for

Bright new pain, shiny with the gloss

At least, of novelty

Renewing hope of conquest

Resolution

Victory

Cessation

Health

Knowing this, I've learned to moderate my expectations

Temporary strength is but prelude to descendant tribulations 

End Game: a poem on fencing, and life

First Period
A slight naïveté
But boundless energy
Stepping, eager, to the strip
Soaking in the world
A little tentative,
Perhaps a little shy
Cautiously advancing proof, disproof
Thesis & hypothesis
Testing how things work
Mapping out the world

Second Period
Buckle down and
Concentrate
Naming what I’ve done, and seen
Learning from mistakes
Using what I’ve learned
Theory morphs to practice
Sometimes,
Almost
Confident mastery
Life begins to flow

Third Period
Shepherding my small stash of

Compiled wisdom

Conserving energy

Husbanding breath
Feeling every ache
Tapping my reserves

Careful strategy to
Navigate the final stretch
Bring me home
Consolidate my gains
Or
Last chance to regroup, revise
Revitalize my game

Naïve once again, I tell myself that, coming from behind
It’s never, never too late to attempt a save