This Too Shall Pass

No other phrase on Earth holds the same ability

to put me into a deeper anger nor a greater ease.

Like a balm spread onto a burn without warning.

Caressing fingers dancing over a slapped cheek.

The sting of ice pressed against a bitten tongue.

"This too shall pass."

An encouragement that could never feel more empty leaving the lips of a stranger

as they watch you suffer from a distance.

Meant as an assurance, to be sure,

yet it carries the distinct bitter aftertaste of a dismissal.

How dare they?

What gives them the right to act as though anything will ever be okay again?

And the worst part of it all,

the part that I am the most grateful for,

is that they usually end up being right.