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.