I Did Not Know Poem by Daniel Brick

for Baharak, Spring 2018

I did not know how young you are
inside, where growth happens slowly,
thoroughly, with no error caused by
human error. Things move forward toward
some predestined good set up ages ago
by those whose pulse matches nature's pulse,
and nothing so guided will fail to reach its
appointed future in its own sweet time.

I did not know you are so beautiful
inside, where beauty does not age and
collapse, as it does in the world of
fleeting time. In your interior world
beauty is linked to moments that are fixed
by multiple blessings to their most youthful
moments and no one shoves you down those
corridors of aging others suffer routinely.

I did not know how friendly you are
until I saw you standing under a cypress tree
on which three owls perched and watched you
intently. The middle one hopped closer to you
and settled deeper into his niche of awareness.
The next one, the largest, preened his black feathers
flecked with gold and opened wide his huge wingspan.
The last one pretended to be asleep but he opened
his eyes often to ascertain your presence. And then he rested.

I did not know how much you love the world
until a wanton, wandering soul traduced it, calling
its beauty vain, its people unworthy and the whole
of it doomed to an immediate Apocalypse. As you listened
tears glistened on your face and they were redemptive tears.
The wayward man bowed his head, fell silent and quickly
walked away. Had he been changed by your silent defense
of the world? Had your grief made him see the world
for what it is? Our place of residence and hope.
Our era of perception and love. Our gradual knowledge
of who we are and a wild, universal gratitude that sweeps us to JOY.