Judgement

Photo Courtesy: jplenio, Pixabay

Such complexity of a word

Yet, so easily passed on.

For it is cut

From the fabric of childhood

One forged by the extremities of life

Those of hardship and of ease

Those of joy and of sadness

Those of love

And of abuse...

Of coldness.

Then is it shaped

With the blades of people

Those around them and beside them

Those with them and against them

Those as hot as lava,

Those as cool as soft snow...

Permanently moulding

The depth-ly corners of their minds,

Of their hearts

And eyes.

And finally is it inter-twined

With the threads of adulthood

Sawn in like the shape of a perfected smile

Practised over and over again

Over the many bleeding pierces of sawing needle pain

Joining every experience

Every memory

Every thought summoned into the very personality they exhibit

Joining them,

Into one.

And that is everyone;

Their lives

Dreams

Fears

And personas...

To think of it,

Do we have any idea

Of what makes one as they are?

Of their fabric?

Their shapers?

Their thread?

Can we really fathom

Of everything that has made one

The person they are today?

It is not for us

To be judge and despise

To any one soul

For we do not know

Whether our design is final

Nor of if our sawing

Is complete.

That,

Is for the Tailor to measure.

Judgement.

Such complexity of a word.

And yet,

So easily passed on.