Forlorn and confused, the people of the city received news of death of their two, most renown shipbuilders. They were found floating and breathless, their corpses outlined by shimmers gifted to the sea by the sunshine of the early morning, like kisses, as if to mourn their passing. Tears were shed, questions were asked, and theories were made. “Heaven” and “hell” were uttered quite a lot on the citizens’ tongues. Drew my attention was a conversation between a fisherman and his son on the seashore, the night after the incident. The son asked his father a lot of questions I had itched to ask. I lingered and eavesdropped-
“Son.. the sea was carnivorous that night,
And the sky was yearning for man debris:
Fleeting souls from the waves to invite,
To fulfill the Lord’s predestined decree-
When broken brethren in loss unite,
They rejoice and thrive in unearthly glee.”
Were they empty husks of helpless men,
Soulless like the bark of a chestnut tree?
Do they know we prayed and said “amen”?
For I heard that the dead could hear and see.
What are they, father? It’s beyond my ken,
Corpses? Is this what they’re deemed to be?
“Floating corpses are empty houses,
Of houseless vagabonds like you and me.
Silent bodies remain unshrouded,
In boats for coffins in the deadly sea.
The world forever stays dumbfounded,
With their ravishing works of carpentry.”
Father, I heard their boat was beaten,
By the mighty waves of the wretched sea,
Where do they wander now? In Eden?
In the shade of His holy forbidden tree?
Or were they living, thankless heathens,
Seeing not beyond the high canopies?
“Son, just like you, I know so little,
Of the obscure course of fatality.
Whether our lives get lost and whittled,
Into wretched crumbs of mortality.
But I know it’s too dire to belittle-
Or be accused of inanity.”