The Weight of Tolerance

Tolerated, like chalk on teeth,

we bite our tongues, breath is weak.

“Love the sinner,” they smile and pray,

while shoving our full selves away.

Patience frays, a threadbare shroud,

as whispers slice through Sunday crowds.

“Just endure,” the robed ones press,

while our bright edges come unstitched.

No more bowing at pulpits’ feet,

our worth was ne’er theirs to keep.

We rise, not as their unwelcome guest,

but wholly ours, and self-possessed.

Let them clutch their hollow creed,

we’ll plant our truth like stubborn seed.

Not tolerated, but embraced.

We stand. Unmoved. Unchased.

© Dereck Pritchard, 2025. All Rights Reserved. Okay to share in full with clear credit to the author. Partial excerpts require written permission.