I Don’t need this secret.

I was sitting at the bar. Directly to my left was a door leading to the
deck. The wind was picking up. John was rambling on with a friend.
I saw the clouds and thought of my father. I walked outside and took
this photo. I liked the wind and the darkening clouds. These clouds
were exactly overhead. I wondered if there was a piece of my father
in them. His celebration of life is this coming Saturday.
I don’t want to go. I will go. But I don’t want to. I’m struggling with
the guilt of not wanting to go. Just like I’m struggling with the guilt
of telling my father he wasn’t there for me when I needed him most.
I guess that’s how it goes. And maybe that’s why I stood outside alone.
I wanted to show someone the photo of the clouds when I walked back in.
What’s the point though. The clouds meant more to me than them.
They always will.

-M. Taggart

photo taken 6/15/21 in Maine.

Poem – why the shame

Lately, when I write,
I feel guilt sitting next to me.
It’s frustrating.
Writing is often very easy for me,
and oddly enough I feel
a sense of shame that it is.
Maybe by writing this,
instead of ignoring it,
the guilt will leave.

-M. Taggart
I think it’s already helping. Thinking of people close to me being jealous of my recent writing achievements has had a negative affect. Writing the above helped me to pin-point where the shame and feelings of guilt originated from.

Odd Walking Thoughts – Don’t keep

We walk into the shadow of death to pull one wounded child from its depths, to find another daft man standing in the corner. Leaves are shuffling outside my window. A man with a golden heart is gone. Another stands in a room looking. Don’t block me. I am here and at least I have my fingers. The man in the room standing, looking daft, asks for silence because silences never questions. Never says a damn word. The girl with the golden brow would have cared for a word. And the boy with the covers pulled tight would have cared for the same.
**
copyright 2017
-M. Taggart