I watched my father wading in the water
with the exploratory children
out for their latest summer adventure.
I wish I had their grace and ambition.
He crouched, locked in a ready position.
The children modeled his pose.
Then they took a collective, rapturous plunge
into the depths of the Red Sea.
The children screamed as the waves conquered
their sweaty torsos and sandy hair.
The depths of those screams
came from the cold water’s reminder
that fall was on its way and approaching fast.
I was too insecure with my body
to ever release my voice.
My mouth stayed closed at all costs.
My lips remained locked,
though I wished to share in those screams
of both terror and excitement.
I longed to scream those innocent screams,
instead of drowning.
