Pain shows up at the door like an old lover

Pain shows up at the door like an old lover

and how many different ways there are to greet it-
with anger: pelting words like shards of glass, trying to bar its entrance.
with restlessness: searching every corner of the room in order to find something to blame for its coming.
with fear and shame, those meek twins,
they cause you to run and hide so as not to confront its presence.
one may stand before the arrival of pain,
ready with their own share of sadness-
for fire can’t scorch what’s already been burnt.
but I aim to greet pain like a philosopher,
seated in my armchair with a cigar.
and I will sit with the pain and have a chat with it,
over a cup of coffee lightly sweetened.
though it’s an old acquaintance, I am humbled by how many new things it has to teach me.
when we are done I will escort the pain back out the door,
courteous as ever.
I will have no need
to lock the door
when it has gone,
for once it has shown its true face,
it will no longer be
so unwelcome.