The Ship of the Unheard

Leaning back into the shadows on the peer, the old fisherman…. He said, “Listen close when the tide pulls back, You’ll hear the ones we turned our backs on.” And the ship of the unheard comes drifting through the gray, Lanterns glowing like the eyes of those we pushed away. They murmur in the rigging, they linger in the foam— ‘Til the living learn to listen, they will never find their home. I walked the pier at midnight, felt the boards beneath me shake, Saw shadows climbing up the mast like memories we forsake. Their faces flickered in the mist—half hope, half warning sign— Like they’d been waiting all these years for someone to draw the line. And the wind carried words I couldn’t place, Like a plea we never bothered to face. And the ship of the unheard comes drifting through the gray, Lanterns glowing like the eyes of those we pushed away. They murmur in the rigging, they linger in the foam— ‘Til the living learn to listen, they will never find their home. [interlude] I felt a hand upon my shoulder—cold as truth we never claim, A voice said, “We’re not here for vengeance, we just want to speak our names.” And in that moment I remembered all the things I let slide by, All the times I stayed in silence while another soul ran dry. Now the ship of the unheard keeps drifting through my mind, Every tide a quiet question: What justice did we leave behind? Their murmurs fill the rigging, their presence haunts the foam— And until we learn to listen, none of us will find a home.