How easily we can offer another
Our opinion or insight
How deftly our guidance
Rolls off the tongue with such knowing

Yet how difficult it is
To just sit silently with another
As they grieve or rage
Or moan with confusion

No, we are trained to be fixers
And we do it to the best of our ability

But when the other says
‘Stop trying to fix me,’
We are lost, and affronted,
And confused

Largely because we have no capacity
To be with ourselves
Without trying to do the same thing.

Image by analogicus from Pixabay