Victims

every stillness
was a message
he never forgot
his priorities
all he wasn’t
he made up for
until
an unseen strike
with no remorse
all that held water
was made half
then
he left
without a word
he left
without a how-to
all the water
dried up
all he made up for
was undone
all that’s left
was a bond through
the tree’s branches.

Tomide Abdul