The Double Tap, September 2nd, 2025
They said the sea bore traffickers —
black hull beneath moonlight,
a streak of smoke, a thunder-flash,
the first strike: eleven lives erased,
one boat, swallowed by waves.
Then the water stilled.
Survivors clung to splintered wood,
two souls drifting in the gloom — not combatants now,
just bodies, gasping hope.
And then: a second thunder.
Another flash.
The sea closed in around them.
So ends the last breath.
No trial, no verdict — only fire and silence.
The orders came: “destroy the threat.”
But what counts as threat — when the hull is broken,
the weapons gone, and only fragile flesh remains?
In the log of war they write: “enemy eliminated.”
In the ledger of sorrow they mark: 11 lost — 2 more.
The sea remembers.
The world watches.
And beneath the midnight water, innocence drifts,
as witnesses to a crime unnamed.
That was a double tap.
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