I Also Wrestled With Angels
by David Andrés Alíx
How far have I fallen from my alleged perch! I dared elevate myself to the pureness of heart of holy angels, as their faces faced me, but having their eyes averted from my assured gaze. They knew better. There was never a doubt. They said,
“He is a man, no different than all the others that have existed before him”.
How would they break it to me? Was it a task delegated to them, or had they been given permission to act unilaterally? However it came down, they did act, and at first it was gently. They told me to be reasonable and not rash, with my lofty aspirations, bandying about words like perfection, and pristine and pure, and forever. Lofty concepts that would compare to the subatomic particles so small, that they are really metaphysical, undiscovered. Lofty concepts applied to me and my love, comparing these to the entire universe; the physical universe. What energy so vigorous and full was required to generate it from nothing? There is no telling, certainly not from my own mouth. I do make a retraction. My love was never pure. I want to sin in the worst way. I always have. I want to sin in excess, having my lips and chin drip with its pungent ripeness. I have not been ready for sin like I am ready for it today.
But I digress, remembering that this toppling of my soul and heart must have a nobler purpose. And when I remember my lofty descriptions, there is something at my core, my root that tells me that it is a correct sentiment, this love that dare be pure. Something tells me that I must not dismiss its possibility. If I let go of it, what else is there left? For me there is nothing, and all that is contained in this universe looses its gravity and punch. Without this love there is no combination of seasonings that could give flavor to remnant breath residing in my lungs, never breathed in or out.
I was a seasoning to the breath of you, at one time. Was it a continuum of time marked by a specific beginning which has not ended until now? Or was it more like various moments in time, little satchels of flavor, here and there that caused a smile? Whatever seasoning I had provided helping to preserve your heart and strengthen your hand, of which I have no doubt existed, has now lost its bite. Now your teeth are on edge at the very thought, as are everyone else’s, of my presence. Yes the angels were for a time donning kid gloves, but now they have been taken off. All the doors have been closed. Perhaps a good lop-sided brawl was what was needed. I wrestled with angels and now have to give in, though my hip joints remain intact.