I Knew You

By Clara Blair

I cannot say I knew you well,
But I knew you.
You had an easy way about you,
Piercing eyes inviting trust.
To meet that gaze at all
Was to know you
And risk being known.

I cannot claim I knew you well,
But I’ve known men like you –
A spirit not easily denied,
Perhaps a hint of danger,
But strength and a certain kind of
Integrity that survives
Bending the truth.

I did not know you well,
And now that chance is gone
With you and your steady
Blue-eyed gaze.
Your stories, some true and
Some maybe not,
I wish I’d heard more.

Why do we want others to be
Perfect, when we know too well
That we ourselves are not?
I’m old enough to understand
The wastefulness
Of the timid heart. Time
Is not on our side.

Our exchanges were few,
But one I’ll always
Remember you by.
The circle of the vernal equinox
Had opened after mead and bread,
After the shaking of rattles and
The ringing of bells.

I sat apart, looking at the sky
While the others went inside.
I’d been swept up by the rites of
Spring, and the sun winking through
The scudding clouds,
And a fresh mild breeze
Combing the new leaves.

“What are you looking at?”
You asked, and I tried to tell you.
But all I could say was that it was
Such a beautiful day. My heart
Was full, and you were not the man
I wanted to share it with. I did not
Know you well enough for that.

© 2002 Clara Blair