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.
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.