And do you know this man, they asked?
You said: I know this man.
You did not lie -
You knew his outward seeming,
Crumpled shirt,
Straight-slipping hair
(so fine, so free from government),
The sun-burned skin,
The crooked fingers;
You saw the dust of travelled days
Etched shadowy upon him.
You listened, sometimes, as he told his tales
With merry eyes
(Such far-blue eyes, the ice-blue eyes of Northern men),
And saw his lips break sweet apart
To let the sound of joy
Beat forth...
You knew him
Yet
You knew him not;
No more did I.
Did any know
That underneath the outward seeming,
There behind the mask of laughter,
Stunned, slow-bleeding lay the spirit
Of a man betrayed?
By whom, you ask?
Why, friend, by love;
By youth;
By hope.
I could not know his hurt,
Not then;
And yet my heart reached out to his
To comfort and be comforted.
The morning I awoke
To feel his breath
Upon my cheek,
The new lights quickened,
Sunlight stabbed the last grey shades
And then I knew the hour would come -
Oh, quickly come! -
When we would hold each other
Close
And he and I would pass out time
In loving pain away;
And then his hands found mine
(Such strong, such gentle hands),
Grew fast in bonds that bound us two
So long, so far...
I do not know the man I love
And yet I thank God daily
That he is.
His spirit healed,
My love, my youth, my hope
Shall not betray.
(1961)
