Hymn

 Hymn by Leslie Suazo 

01/20/2024

The best way I can describe your essence is by comparing it to a hymn. 

Sometimes you come crawling on a cold morning. 

Sometimes you ease slowly when the sun dims and the Texan hues fade. 

The best way I can describe your spirit is by comparing it to the last bit of dry paint, brushing on a white sheet, no longer creating a figure. 

Just distorted dull shapes. 

I was born to read people's insides, 

but I never came across a book like yours. 

You are dark purple moon rock. 

The best way I can describe your heart is by comparing it to what you see when you close your eyes; nothing. 

Like a pebble sitting on a riverbank,

unmoved and still.

Your voice is a muffled record player, spinning round and round. 

Your eyes are dying grass, protected by cascades of lashes. 

You are detached the same way an umbilical cord is snapped. 

You're a cowboy with no rope. 

You're a fallen leaf of hope. 

You're a sigh and an "I don't want to talk about this anymore."