You amaze me, did you know?
You tell me things no man has ever said—
save one, my dad.
He’s seen the worst of me and still he says,
“I’d marry you.”
And yet, that is one threshold
we have never crossed.
And I am grateful
because this means that I am free
to cross that line with you,
Querido.
You sneak up on me, love—
in the shower as the water trickles
past
and pools in puddles at my feet;
while awake at night, imagining;
as I drive along the freeways
of the city,
silence blaring from the radio.
It’s like a beating on the inside,
my organs all at once arrested
by the sweetness of your words
remembered.
Asombroso.
You’re like a treat too-oft enjoyed
which leaves a cavity,
empty
but for love’s enduring pain;
or like the tickling of my feet that’s felt
like Phantom’s fingers
somewhere along the hipline.
I can’t escape you.
Dulce.
You could be the next
uncovered Wonder of the World
the way you take my breath
away—
brilliant as the Lighthouse built
on Pharos,
majestic as the celebrated
victory of Rhodes,
influential as the Pyramids’ remembered
dynasty.
Poderoso.
Your faith astounds me.
In its infancy compared to mine and yet—
matured beyond what I have yet to do.
Many people on the other side had called me “missionary”
just because I wasn’t with them.
But you—
No one pats your back for bravery
and yet you go
selflessly to give that some might see,
like Peter, Paul, or John, the Savior’s
right-hand men.
