the sirens’ song is a wailing call to
rouse the sleepers, to wake the dead. It is
the mother’s cry, the sister’s sorrow, the
daughter’s lament: it’s the unmet keen—an
unreconcilable loss of justice.
the siren’s song is a frozen moment
in time on an endless feedback loop: its
only remedy is the gentling sway-
ing rock of distance and perspective. But
let them— I —let us not sing in vain.
Dear one, do not forsake what you have learned,
the terrible and lovely truth you sought
to hear, for so few are savvy enough
to make safe passage. Treasure not the map
that led you hence, but when your ship has passed
to quieter waters unlash your hands.
Unstop the ears of men, and be bold:
“I was born to run
I was born for this”
–Imagine Dragons, Whatever It Takes