Who of us isn’t a word about to be spoken to a friend?
A ship about to leave the local harbor?
When the anchor is pulled
We’ll sail into a new tomorrow
As dark and unknowable
As the deep
Who of us isn’t question asked in earnest?
A fishing vessel on the open ocean?
Lines cast and waiting
To bring in a harvest
To feed the world
Maybe today
Who of us isn’t a quiet confession in a noisy bar?
A fragile skiff rocking to an indifferent sea?
Sinkable
Vulnerable
Driving against the storm
Or being driven further from shore
Who of us isn’t an apology to the one we’ve wronged?
A life raft adrift on the unforgiving deep?
No land in sight
Bound to consequences
Of our own decisions
While provisions run low
So whether we are all the words we’ve ever spoken
Or just the ones we’ll never speak
So whether we are all just land-locked sailors
Stumbling in the street
Or if we are every foul-mouthed pirate
That you’d hope to never meet
Every one and all alike
Needs the blessing of the fleet
