Flight 1969 Poem by Dianne Feaver

An accident of birth, a twist in serendipity
one more candle on a cake, one day less,
or month before and it would not be me,
but someone spared what I confess.

Among the families on the beach,
my two parents on vacation with their kids,
sat with the necessities of each,
above sea-grass, out of sight as if they hid.

We appeared intrepid to be alone;
in truth, only spectators to a world,
of families passing by I earmarked not my own,
as elusive and fleeting as a seafoam curl.

And like the waves, there were always more,
but none like us, a family apart, too afraid
of one among us and the mask he wore,
a family man in public, a quiet tyrant well obeyed.

And as the sun set, these families went walking
and the last of the day dripped the sea
into the footprints they made talking
in a freedom I imagined one day included me.

I watched the tide slide out to the sun,
families left, the moon suddenly awake,
and I flew with the sea-wind, my flight begun
toward the future family I swore an oath to make.