I Did Not Know

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.