Chains Across Time

The Crossing

The waves consumed the deck, salt stinging our eyes as the wooden bones of the ship moaned beneath our weight. Hands bruised and tethered, we drifted between sky and water, ghosts of ourselves in a living tomb. The sea swallowed our cries, yet in the storm-light we saw faces of those taken before us, hands reaching, never touching, reminding us that even amid endless torment, our souls remembered freedom’s taste.