Poem Prompt: Unknown

Mama sent me out--we were out of mangoes
and Junior wailed for more.
I scruffed and walked to the tree grove.
Admittedly, it wasn't too far out.
The island was only so big,
and there were only so many feet you could fit in
between us and the trees.
I joined the other women in the grove,
picking a day's worth of fruit.
No less so Junior wouldn't complain until tomorrow.
No more so there would be fruit for others.

A boat washed up on the shore,
its dashboards creaked
as its support hit the sand
and crumpled from the impact.
My entire life, I hadn't seen anything like it.
Up until then, I had never really been sure of what a boat even was.
A pile of wood that floated on water?
And it was meant to carry me? A whole person?
Nonsense.
But when I saw full-grown men clambering out of the wooden trap,
my eyes widened.
I guess a ship was more than nonsense.

I had frozen in place--I didn't know what to do.
I watched as they hauled out supplies
and set up what looked like a camp.
The other women quickly went away,
leaving me alone with the men.
Though, I doubt they even acknowledged me.
I was a good distance away and still among the trees.
I was thin enough and they were tired enough--
maybe I looked like a tree.
So I stood there, gawking.

I suppose one of the women noticed me.
I felt a small, cool hand on my shoulder,
pulling me back.
Obediently, I followed.
I kept my head down and didn't catch a face.
But, I saw her delicately embroidered ankles,
a sign of a woman of status.
I kept my head bowed,
in respect.

That night I tossed and turned,
curiosity kept my brain churning.
I thought of the men--
big and scruffy,
exhausted and desperate for rest.
I looked to my side, where Junior lay still.
Silent, unmoving--perfect for creeping past.
I rushed out the window, quieter than Papa in deep thought.
The moon was so dim I could hardly see my feet.
So, I walked slowly and stood tall, fluffing the curls on my head.
Surely, anyone looking out their window wouldn't blink twice at a tree.

I made it to the grove and stooped down to the bushes.
Crawling along, I watched out for sticks and roaches.
I knew the grove like my palm,
I could sense when I was nearing the edge closest to the shore.
Finally, I popped my head up,
hoping to be a bush.
To my dismay, the camp was gone.
Maybe I was mistaken?

I stood up now and limbered out of the leaves.
Walking along the shore, I saw no sign of the men.
No ship, no camp, no supplies--
nothing.
The water was still and the sands were whole,
as if nothing had ever crashed into it.
I started to wonder
if it was all just a dream.
I looked down to my feet--to check if this was a dream.
Alas, my feet were still there.
And, maybe a foot away from them, so was a bottle.
It reflected my face and the moonlight well
and I could see clearly through it.
In it was a small piece of paper.
Scrabbled on it:
u n k n o w n.