A siren in the water, 

Or she was just someone’s daughter?

A girl too young for them to claim,

Yet their hearts ached for touch they could not confess.

Though she sang no song, sailors feared her name,

Haunted by the sight they could not possess.

He hungered for her even as she refused him,

Spare not a single thought for his wife.

As though this siren’s beauty was a debt

And it was owed on sight.

The waves whispered warnings he could not head,

The tide waiting for the hour of his greed.

A siren in the water,

He had wronged their daughter.

Their sins and secrets she never held within,

Yet the sailors damned her just the same.

They spoke of scales that never touched her skin,

Still, every shipwreck was in her name.

They cast her to the waves, expecting a surrender,

But the sea wrapped her in a gift of vengeance.

“Beware the siren,” their voices trembled,

As if they themselves conjured her power.

Empty fishing nets, crops that refused to grow,

It was the sailors’ pride that called the tides of woe.

Sirens in the water,

They too were once daughters.

Their rage took to the sea, relentless and prolonged,

Every sailor who let their desire turn theft— 

Finally, they’d feel the wrath of those wronged.

Once the sirens came, there would be nothing left.

She would raise the tides so no ships could sail,

Her sisters would bring winds so no roof could hold.

The storm tore itself a path, carrying the wrath of the deep,

And lightning carved the names of those to die.

The sirens called, the ocean would not relent,

And all who wronged them vanished in the sea’s lament.