A ship in its harbor is always safe,
But that’s not why ships are built.
Ships exist to carry passengers
And wobble through ocean’s stilts.
She is not built to never leave
Or face a dangerous trip.
It’s made to face the roaring seas
Even if her frame will rip.
At least she had a story,
At least she lived her life.
At least she saw the world
And lived with confidence and strife.
Ships are made to be used
And their underbellies torn.
It’s holes to be patched
And wooden body worn.
But without wounds it would just sit.
Useless and rotting bit by bit.
Withering away until her maker tears her up
Or gives her away to simply fill his cup.
A boat whom never sees the war
Can never say she’s tried.
A boat who’s never held the wounded,
Can never say she’s cried.
And a boat who’s never lived a life
Can never say she’ll die.