Be careful with the little ones

I was two when my parents divorced.
My first memory is of my father
carrying my mother, slung over his shoulder,
down the hallway to their bedroom.

After he left the house, I walked from
the living room to their bedroom.
“Mommy, are you ok?”

She was crying.

After the divorce there was an emptiness.
I still feel it.
It took years before my father gained the
right to visit with my brother and I.
Once a week.
Sunday,
11-5

Eventually another man was there.
That’s when the real torture began.

-M. Taggart

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Focus

At times it’s hard for me to understand
what I understand.
You have to focus to see the best things,
I remind myself.

-M. Taggart

Stutter Step

I’m cleaning the house.
We have a visitor arriving tomorrow.

It seems every time I start, I stop,
as though I’m going through a metamorphosis
and I’m suppose to know to step back and watch.
Instead I’m forcing my way through the steps
of productivity for the sake of finishing, something.

Earlier at the dump I told the men that my kid
was going to be jealous that I was there without him.
One of them told me how much he liked Gavin and
that he’s a real nice kid.

The man has a stutter. Gavin doesn’t care. He waits
for the man to deliver his words, thinks about an answer,
and does. Then Gavin generally shows him whatever toy
it is that he brought along for the dump run.
It’s nice being at the dump.

Maybe I’m done. Maybe the dump run was enough.
I’ll just lie on the floor and watch the empty ceiling until
something happens.

Or maybe I’ll have an early beer and clean the toilets,
scrub the sink, put on some music, and finish this house
while ignoring contentedness trying to confuse itself as failure.

I think the sun’s coming out

-M. Taggart

matrix

We’re on to something here.

Aren’t we?

The hitch, the ever present self
puzzling over deliveries of deja vu
Placing clarity over never

It’s as if we’ve nearly got it

Yea.

Maybe some do,
And maybe my coffee is burnt.

 

-M. Taggart

Evolve Little Drop

It’s raining this morning
and dark outside from the cloud cover.
Making me feel calm and comfortable.
I want to climb into one drop
and sleep. Maybe I’d awaken just
below the surface ready to view the
world differently and possibly I’d learn
what I’ve been waiting to know. Why
some view life with a malevolent eye
as others approach children with
sincere adoration and caring; how
is it that these two constantly carry on
generation after generation of sameness.

-M. Taggart

Watching The Storm

There’s something about an approaching storm.
The wind, the smell, the trees bending in preparation.
I become stuck, knowing any one tree will never bend
in that exact way again, I try storing as much of the
moment as I can, and while doing so the storm becomes
closer. I can hear thunder and see the lightening.
I can feel everything. There’s something about watching it all.

-M. Taggart