Nomad Writer

Discernment isn’t as simple
As the flip of a coin;
Whimsical in its submission to chance
Without hesitation
Or even consequence
And perhaps life would be more interesting
Maybe even a little more composed
If it were predicated on such whimsy
If we could easily determine another’s intentions
By the telling glint of heads or tails
Instead it’s left up to our own sense
To examine the smooth texture of others’ words
To test the true weight of their actions
Because it’s silly to trust every smile
Though I want to believe that all people are truly good
That their hearts beat with an effortless cadence
Echoing the fluidity
Of pure and well-meaning thoughts
Without a trace of malice tainting their veins
But I’ve seen the dual visage
Contoured in half-truths and lies
I’ve heard derision and its way of hollowing out
Kind words meant to convey concern
So how do I learn to extend grace
And still be kind
Without mirroring the disingenuous ways
Of those around me
Without leaving myself vulnerable
To the claws itching and ready to scratch viciously at my back?