by Ryan Keating

There were no ropes
just a net of hands
to catch me in the stone
house that held the world
where he sat teaching
heaven to receive me.

I fell through the earth 
and straw roof - a body
beneath the sky suspended
in a temple by a temple
and landed on holy ground
as a temple uncursed.

I stepped into the garden
restored and carrying
no shame on new legs
and the sea parted
astonished for me
and my four friends floating.

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Ryan Keating is a writer, pastor, and winemaker on the Mediterranean island of Cyprus. His work can be found in publications such as Saint Katherine Review, Ekstasis Magazine, Amethyst Review, Macrina Magazine, Fathom, Dreich, Vocivia, and Miras Dergi, where he is a regular contributor in English and Turkish.

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