Tonight

The sky was full of stars as we walked into the woods in a loose pack, the three in front carrying wooden swords, followed by myself and another friend, all calling back and forth to each other in excited voices. We crossed a small stone and wood bridge and walked along the lakeshore to a clearing among the trees. Three of us stood aside while the other two each took a bamboo sword and faced each other in the circle of moonlight. Their faces were hidden in shadow, but their postures spoke of energy, something pent up and waiting for release. And then they came at each other, the swords clacking together as they swung and sliced and stabbed. After several minutes, one managed to hit the other, a fatal blow if it would have been a real blade. One sword was handed off to the next person, and the fight began again.

After a while, it was my turn. I had never held a sword, real or not, and the feel of it was awkward. One of the others had decided to teach me a little bit of what he knew, and so we faced each other and he showed me a few simple things, very basic blocking and attacking, and we practiced for a while before I handed over my sword to one of the more experienced guys and sparring recommenced.

One in particular, he was graceful, sword in one hand, the other extended behind him like a dancer. The others copied his style, but not so well as the original, all long limbs and smooth movements, as if he had practiced for a long time. He did not always win so easily, but it was poetry to watch.

Before too long, two of the guys had the idea to try blind fighting. At first, they tried just keeping their eyes closed, but it was far too easy to cheat, even unintentionally. But soon, blindfolds were improvised, and they tried again. Of all the events of the night, this was the most gripping, watching them stand still and pensive, waiting for the other to make a move, swinging the bamboo swords in front of them in careful arcs, trying to sense where the opponent was. They found each other at the edge of the clearing, and the swords cracked together. They scrabbled at each other for only moments before one struck a killing blow. Then they each removed their blindfolds. They were both grinning, in awe of how intense and difficult it was to fight without using their sense of sight. It was powerful, almost magical, and they were intent on doing it again on future nights. But it was getting late, and we were getting tired, so we packed up everything and began the cold walk toward home.

And that, my friends, is why my homework is not done.