What I Learned From Listening to a Stutterer – Ellen Zorin

I often felt I could recite the Gettysburg Address
in the time he took to get past the K in kettle,
as he tried to tell me he’d like to make
a pot of tea, and then there was the T,
that sharp slice of a sound that sat stubbornly
stuck behind his two front teeth as he
tried to expel it and get to the “E.”
As I watched and listened to his struggle,
I realized it was my struggle too.
I was desperate to finish that word he was working.
I fought to quell the impatience inside me,
but in honesty, I wanted to flee.
I never asked myself 
what those few extra seconds cost me.
Every impatient moment
shreds a small piece of my sense of compassion.
Every judgmental reaction to him is a judgment of myself.
So while he struggles to overcome his stut-t-t-t-t-er,
I grasp for the better part of myself
to block the scratch of irri-t-t-t-t-tion
that crawls into my throat,
that makes my breath want to sigh
I assess.
How many seconds is empathy worth?