Soon may the Wellerman come

My bones ache, my lips are cracked from salt and grit, and my eyes burn with the glare of the sun on the water but Im not complaining. The Wellermans gonna come, I swear it. Just like the tide, hes gonna rise. And tomorrow? Tomorrow, we set sail before the dawn bleeds the sky. Were not just going to sea were going to hunt. To catch something. Something big. Something that makes the saltwater sing and the wind hum. Im already counting the knots in the rope, the weight of the net, the way the waves will lift us like a promise. Were not just fishermen anymore were pirates of the deep, chasing the ghost of the Wellermans last voyage. The harbors a cage behind me, all those cranes and containers like a city that doesnt know how to let go. But I dont care. Im not looking back. Im looking forward to the horizon, to the salt, to the catch, to the Wellermans call. And when we get there? When we get there, the sea will remember us. It always does.

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