and post notes and photos about your poem like Caren Krutsinger.
This happened to the young missionary son and twelve or fifteen young missionary friends.
I heard the story from his parents who attended Sunday School a day or so after receiving the news from the lone surviviing missionary. They had been treading water for a day or two, singing hymns, sharing Bible verses, laughing and talking. Being taken one at a time by sharks. Only one in about 18 or 20 was rescued, and he called all of the other parents to let them know that they had had a fine time to the very end, and how their children passed on to the next dimension. I have never forgotten this story, nor shall I ever. It had horrified me so completely.