the weight of a war on
an empath feels like
a post apocalyptic
scientology…whoops i mean
science fiction flick
happening in real time.

like something indestructible
and relentless must perish
in the hope for safety
and softness for
babies

like
running away
in cellular and molecular
waves is resistance

like
mischief and wit and trouble
aren’t weapons of war
anymore

but drone strikes are
and apparently Artificial
intelligence…
can’t spell school 

so no crying.
the weight on my
mitochondrial self
as an empath
stings inside from
this and all these wars

perseverance sizzling
out of my pores as I disappear
onto the subway again.

taking in the eyes of
those still alive enough
to raise them

smiling about something abstract
and meaningless 

knowing only not to do so wouldn’t be less meaningless 

knowing the detachment
is worse
than being an empath with the weight of all the pain from. all these wars…

in America.

repeat after me

we are free.

عبد ملك

From our forthcoming issue, Like Fire.