Weightless
by Jessi Purviance
And she swings.
She swings on that swingset, the one almost as old as she is. A gift from her mechanic grandfather who built it out of parts he had laying around his shop.
It has lasted through the frozen winters, the neighbor children who abused it and the birds who line up like little hunters awaiting their prey.
It holds its memories in the rusted chains and creaky joints.
Now it shines fire engine red in the early spring sunlight. A lazy summer project to restore its luster.
The pines whisper. Chains creak.
The wind rushes through her hair.
The wind rushes through her hair.
And she swings.
Weightless, up into the sky.
Once again finding innocence.
For that brief second, the worries of the world have been flung into the cloudless deep blue.
Not to be found until a more convenient time.
Not to be found until a more convenient time.
She swings to forget.
She swings to remember.
She swings to remember.
