what empathy is

Empathy is not
illusion.

It’s imagination. It’s not hard
to hear words like hooks,
tearing and caught in a voice
you love, to look into eyes
lit with rage and tears - it’s not hard

to imagine yourself in the same place.
You aren't,
but you are.

It’s hard not to be
Wishing you could be
there in the same place
they are, to help them fight,

to pull them out.

Aching with hopeless rage yourself,
that you can’t be! That you can’t help.
Not really help. Not help what’s wrong.

But you’re here, now. With them, at least.
At least you can grasp their arm, their hand

as you both hold on. You can pull for them,

even if you can’t
pull them out.

Pull on
Pull through
the best you can do,
which is pitiful to you.

You feel next to useless,
but you hold on
for whatever it can mean
to them right now,

to have you here,
when they're so much in need.

You can be here for them,
even if you can’t really join them
in the horrible place where they are.
It’s so hard not to be able to.

It isn't hard, empathy.

Just the hardest thing
in the world, maybe. You tell
yourself you’d gladly suffer yourself,
rather than see them go through this

with you helpless to help. And no probably,

it wouldn’t be "gladly" that you'd do it.
But given the choice, you really would choose.
To be there, if only you could.

Empathy is no illusion.

You’ve been through thirty-two flavors of hell
yourself, and it’s pretty damn faint

if you can’t imagine yourself now, where they are.
How it feels, what they’re going through. Especially when

they just told you

every bit of how it feels.

Especially when they made every word tell,
especially as you reel from the hits.
Empathy’s not illusion.

It’s just imagination.
It’s just a very small

amount
of imagination.

Not even a leap! Not when
you’ve been there yourself,
or places as bad. Not when
it’s someone you love.

It’s one small step.

So real you wish you didn't have
to take it.

But there's no way in hell
you won't.