Emigrating

Emigrating

Back and forth we pump our legs,
my daughter and I, together on one swing,
husband/father on the other.
We swing toward each other and away again
toward each other
and away again.
He nods and we all stand up in unison.
We have practiced this at home
until we dream about it
but only he has ever made the leap before.
My daughter and I hold hands undeterred
by the multitude of observers below
and the distance
and the incessant force of gravity calling out
like the Lorelei to hapless sailors.
We focus on continuing to swing.
He nods again
and we swing forward, forward,
forward,
we leap
are caught and catch ahold
the bar is solid beneath our feet and we are
one on either side of him,
who faces where we've come from.
And we all swing together
shaky but triumphant
knowing grace is purely a matter of perspective.
From below we are seen as clowns, buffoons.
We honk our rubber noses and flap our arms in confirmation.
Audience laughter floats up
like the screams of shorebirds
dive-bombing a garbage barge.
But from here, to me,
it seems we are, all three,
capable of miracles.