The Thin Along Poem by Adeosun Olamide

In the wreckages, pieces
He comes to us to be distracted,
To empty the memories
But we, not angels, turn away.
And gaze upon, mere gazes
Forgetting what warmth a hug can.
He returns, roving on.

He returns, roving on,
To the storm, fishing for peace or warmth,
Then to his dark, rejected,
Too with the memory of the rejection...
It is the weight needed to drown-
To drown in that sea, that storm,
To drown where he might find comfort.

We in the bars of forged simulations, stay,
Gazing at his hand reaching out to us,
While his mind is drawn by the sea.
But we in the bars of forged simulations do here,
Where sheltered by our own fears, fade,
Caring only the loved, only the strong, the pretty
And cared only those, needing not cares.

We could call to him, but we lost his name,
We scream but the sea roars back at us
We scream but he hears us not.
We scream and it echoes endlessly-
We remain in the bars of forged simulations,
But the sea, done with him, comes as though possessed
-Its tides and cold resolute against our forgeries.