There’s comfort in judgement

That’s the actual problem.
It’s easier.
It’s easier to look at you, me baffled, uncomfortable, you adrift, untethered.
Now the discomfort makes me breathless,
I must find an anchor!
I need to tether your crazy to a familiar buoy.
One that bobs, innocently, hiding the rusted shackles that run deep beneath.

Because, it’s easier.

Ignorant, uninformed, unkind. But comfortable.

I see it then. The burgee I know so well.
Proud, flapping in the wind.
Validating the choice I make, again and again.
To belong to what I’ve been told my whole life.
To the ignorance, to the unkindness.

Because it’s easier.

I drag you aboard, surely you’ll see.
THIS is the place to be.
You resist, you’d rather be at sea.
It doesn’t take too long.
The bailer bearers come, quickly scooping you off their pristine.

I let go.

My breath steady, I’m safe. I’m in the club.
I’m uninformed, ignorant, and unkind. But, comfortable.

Because, you see, there’s comfort in judgement.