Names written on lists

My father used to tell me
Remember that you are human
Even as the world tries its best to erase you
With rote headlines, indifference, and silence

So, I write my name in fading ink
Everywhere I can reach
On cracked walls, broken doors, inside my wrists
If—no, when—I disappear
Someone would know I was here

My hands are busy counting the dead
Yet I still dream of a place
Where the sky is never angry
And bread is always soft
A world where names are not written on lists
Nor mispronounced in the news