Mother corrals her sleeping infant in the corner of the berth, behind stacked pillows and life vests. She, husband and child are lucky ones. They push off from their island home, source of ill winds and invisible death, in their junque Diaspora. They have an exit plan. They will sail west and wait for sunrise.
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Fay Moore: I Want To Be a Writer 
Moved.
Thank you. Tragedy is one mishap away from us all. Innately we know it; so when we see tragedy touch others, it brings out the best in us by allowing us to be generous, gracious, merciful to the hurting. We realize tomorrow it could be us needing the help, encouragement, support. When tragedy strips one of everything, it touches a very raw nerve in those observing it.
Excellent!
Thank you! It is being submitted to the anthology.