Candles

They are sending billionaires and pop stars into space while the planet burns and Americans ration their insulin. There are companies marketing AI lovers to lonely people and harvesting their data. Last night Israel bombed a tent camp in Gaza, and women and children burned alive. This is a strange, dark place. Strange, dark times in a strange, dark world. Light a candle for those who have died. Light a candle for those who are dead inside. Light a candle for those with algorithms in their eyes. Light a candle for those with AI in their souls. Light a candle for the screaming red children. Light a candle for the silent gray children. Light a candle for the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Light a candle for the songs of the whales. Light a candle for the hearts like cast lead. Light a candle for the hearts like wallaby roadkill. Light a candle for the hearts like incense cathedrals. Light a candle for the hearts like wet skies. Light a candle for the eggs in our chests. Light a candle for the seeds in our heads. Light a candle for the mushroom cloud on the horizon. Light a candle for the sleeping Buddhas. I stand slack-jawed and dry-mouthed at a world I do not understand, hurtling toward a future I do not recognize. Firelight dances on my wall from the candles, or maybe from Gaza, or maybe from the biosphere, or maybe from just beneath my skin. Reading by Tim Foley.