Hives of judgement

Who can say they are flawless and unblemished,

with a past that is clear like glass with no cracks -

sitting around a hellish dining room with weevil-infested snacks,

while having a genuine light-hearted smile well intact?

Imagine us as creatures without

imperfect features

or ability to feel pain or grieve

Our faces would prove to be plain and sterile,

It would be challenging to believe

and capture what a person feels from the inside

With no emotion or passion,

No movement, or action,

Our stance in everything would be placid;

We would not be able to feel the burn,

Even if we were wading in acid;

Something as simple as gazing at the stars in the middle of a hail storm

would feel to us like a day at the spa being massaged

Likewise, lying on rows of razors –

Unscathed and safe from these laser- blades;

Skin like that of a quantum stabilised mirror;

Demeanour untainted by various kinds of horror.

Who can tell me of one soul,

who has borne it all,

and made it through, completely whole,

without any warping to the mould?

Is there one human being who can take the stand

and swear that they have never been disenchanted by a fellow human hand

and felt deep in their soul that the fire inside them could have easily burned several acres of land?

It only takes one sprint,

in a 365 circle to get injured

in any one experience of this transient conscious hurdle,

And while we know others may play a part

in some kind of hurt,

whether from the end,

middle, or from the start,

we have to exercise our

vision, mainly from the heart –

accountability, discernment, and humility for family, loved ones or even just a friend,

or maybe a stranger, too,

who had a calamity they had recently scraped through.

Truthfully, I say to you,

authenticity produces a vibration potent,

with no mask or filter to pretend,

therefore we cannot forge friendships that reek a resentment stench,

For all of us –

we are blemished,

and not without dents,

it’s only unfortunate that we are plagued

by the virus of hate,

and stung by the hives of judgement.

- Angela Yap Chung