I Learned Flight before Faith
Submitted By: Ineshka N
----------------------------------
Once, the swing in my backyard was a temple. The ropes were not ropes, but braided prayers pulled tight by sunburned hands. The seat was not wood, but a throne carved from the patience of trees. When I pushed off the earth, the sky parted, the wind cloaked me like a saint, and the sun kissed my forehead as if I were chosen. Each arc was a hymn, each return a small resurrection. The neighbors saw only a squealing child, but I was a pilgrim with hair full of light, learning early that joy itself is a kind of holiness.
----------------------------------
Reg ID: HF25-5210
Please Note - You can vote only Once. If you have already voted - the voting will be disabled automatically by the system.