**inspired by āThe Swingā by Jean-HonorĆ© Fragonard
Ā
hands at my back
pushing forward
and up, up, up,
the breeze tugging at my face
until I felt weightless,
the chain squealing in protest,
and I looked down at a ground that seemed too big and too far,
and my heart jumped.
And then back down, down, down,
my hair swooshing into my face
till I felt the comforting weight
of hands at my back again,
swinging back and forth
between the world and my daddy.
Ā
hands at my back
pushing forward
and up, up, up,
the breeze kissing my face
until I felt weightless,
the chain squeaking with loving age,
and I looked down at a ground that seemed expansive,
and my heart grew.
My father was saying,
āBe careful! You can do it!ā
And then back down, down,
till I jumped off
and landed on my own two feet,
my hair falling straight,
following the path forward.
Ā
hands at my back
pushing me away
and up, up, up,
the breeze fresh in my face,
smelling of freedom,
the rope buckling under my weight
until I could look down and see you,
hiding, briefly,
heart longing,
and then back down, down, down,
my hair obscuring my view of you
till I felt the oppressing weight
of hands at my back again,
swinging back and forth
between you and my betrothed.
Ā
hands at my back
pushing me away
and up, up, up,
the breeze smarting my face
until you and the world blurred,
the rope fraying with tension,
and my betrothed yelling,
āBe careful! You better hang on!ā
And then back down, down,
until the rope broke
and I landed on my own two feet
right in front of you
with your hands readyĀ
to be at my back
but I swung my feet
and pushed myself away and up, up, up.
