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The Ship

Updated: Apr 21


Am I still me when I get better?

I have been storm-battered

and beaten by rocks and fists

and torn apart at the seams.

I sail close to the wind, between Scylla

and Charybdis.

Scylla takes a bite of my wheel,

then my hull,

sending me careening

close to Charybdis,

black hole to the bottom

of the ocean.

This is not how I want

to find Atlantis.

Water leaks in

and blood leaks out

and who am I at the end of this?

Who am I when I wash up on shore?

Who am I when I try and stick

two pieces of wood together,

and they no longer fit?

Who am I when you have stolen some o

f my splinters?

When I stumble into port,

who will believe me?

This is not ancient Greece.

The gods are dead,

and we know better than to

label nature as monstrous.

“Nature is nature and honey,

you should have been ready.”

Who will believe me when I say

I did not destroy myself,

especially when I murmur,

“Not at first.”

Who will lend me tools,

let me stain their floor

with my sanguine tears?

Who will let me

build myself up

to a point of building myself back up?

Who will give me lumber?

Whose trees can I fell

when I own nothing in this place?

I hammer and I saw and I patch

and I sing and I cry.

I am building myself again,

with some old pieces,

some new.

But am I still me?

What will I name this vessel now?


I have hammered and sawed and patched

and sang and cried,

and sometimes that singing sounded

an awful lot like screaming,

and sometimes those tears looked

an awful lot like blood.

And here is what I have learned:

you cannot blame Theseus

for his paradox.

Maybe his ship


both the same and different.

Maybe it is the universe

just as I am.

And maybe that’s okay.

What will I name this vessel now?

I name this vessel









I name this vessel me.

I name this vessel home.

I'm Ellora (she/her), a 22-year-old poet, mystery author, and retail manager from Akron, Ohio. I'm a queer witch and enjoy visiting my Great Lake, collecting rocks, and photography. In my writing process, I endeavor to process my deepest, darkest emotions and relate my experiences to metaphors in the world around me.

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Published in issue 5

Published in issue 5

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