It Won’t Last

It was spoken between tears and whimpers, pain and sorrow.

Spoken by a mother to her daughter during times of distress, of hurt.

Carved in leather as a reminder around their wrists.

It was a phrase that got me through plenty of times, when things were at their worst, uncertain.

Pain at its most.

A comfort linked with a promise.

A thread of faith when the string was fraying.

It was a joke when, upon arrival, said: “I won’t last.”

While true, it wasn’t the gift's intention, and while corrected, the smile lasts.

The steps still filled with laughter.

It was a reminder that I wasn’t alone.

I had those who fought for me, I still do.

Heaven's armies,

a mother’s determination,

and a friend’s encouragement are still at my side.

© Maia Vashti