It should never matter

We walked into a whiskey distillery in Winchester, NH
Inside was nicer than expected
Wood floors. Wood beams. Wood bar.
I stood near the wall, didn’t take a stool.
I like standing. It’s freeing for my heart.
To my left was the actual distillery
Whiskey barrels with grudge marks smiled at me
The owner is an amazing man
He’s been around the world and back
And talked to me as though I mattered
When we were ready to pay he asked
me if we could put it all on one
I looked at him, unmoving
I said, “My donkey is currently at the top of the hill.
I’m not sure which way he will go.”
He said to my brothers, “How long has he been like this?”
I liked this man as soon as we had walked into his distillery.
We talked about football, and basketball
at extent with a man sitting to our right
As soon as he told us his player was Barry Sanders I told him about Curtis Martin
and I wasn’t able to stop my mouth
about Jayson Tatum and his talent
His footwork
His intelligence
We walked from
this place
with a step
loving life
even though
we were the only
white boys

-M. Taggart

 

Fuck you bird

Fuck you bird. You’re on my leaf.
We compromised
and the bird took the leaf.

I smoked my cigar
wanting to know more about the bird.
After he took my leaf I watched him fly into the trees

That bird made a lot of noise in those trees
with my leaf
I let the smoke engulf my face
while I thought about why I cared
about the bird and life and race and black and white

Have the leaf
it wasn’t really mine

The bird was a cardinal.

-M. Taggart
copyright 2017

 

 

i SHOUDN’t – A Poem

I change diapers. I clean vomit. I wipe on my knees-
I am a white man who is privileged. I am the devil.

I didn’t get paid in December for my work-
Again in January I wait-
The best I have is nothing

Look as the cat hunches
My eyes drop
My child runs from me

The Ice In My Glass is Full
Has it come to grow?
Again we wait

It’s us who’s created this madness
It’s us they’d like gone

I love my family deeply
I listen, as his pitter patter widens

don’t let us…

-M. Taggart copyright 2017

 

Color of a Son

To my unborn son. I have a few things I need to tell you. Soon you’ll be here and then you’ll grow to be a man. You’ll make your own decisions based on your own thoughts. Listen. There are good people and there are bad people. There are even evil people. But know this- The color of the skin does not wear the character within.

Strength of character is a mighty thing. At times you’ll see a child teaching an adult what kindness means. Don’t let this moment elapse without truly seeing. Black, white, red, yellow; this means nothing. Hate, greed, abuse, control for power- all will be forced onto you through out your life. It’ll be up to you to identify and see the true agenda behind each. If we could put a color to these, or place emblems on foreheads, we’d all learn quickly. Color of ones skin does not wear the character within. Love, support, bonding emotions, creating loyalty through kindness and well being. These would be beautiful colors to wear on any skin.

When you lay your head to rest you may replay voices saying otherwise. You’ll remember. -You will witness people harming others for the sake of harming. This is evil. If a white man harms a child; this is evil. If a black man harms a child; this is evil. If you see a black man hugging a child; this is love. If you see a black man hugging his white wife; this is love. If you see a white man hit his wife; this is evil and I ask that you not stand and watch. I ask that you help the wife. Do not turn your back. I say this so simply because we’ve seemingly forgotten how to communicate well in our society. I don’t want to make that mistake with you. It’s too important.

Professionals don’t exist, individuals do. It will be your cross to bear. To truly see.

You may find tears rolling down your cheeks because a mother turned her back on her child. The child wanted to be picked up and raised their arms to their mother. The mother turned her back and you don’t understand why and you cry.  You wiped your tears and you walked to the child and you picked the child up and you hugged the child. -We back up and watch. We the people. Now we crowd around and wonder why you did that, and now we cry. We cry because we’ve seen a stranger cross the boundary we’ve accidentally created in our society. A boundary which hurls us to distancing ourselves from helping to heal our people. We cry because we witness your strength of character and we wished we had it too.

I cry because you will be here soon. I cry because I feel what you mean to me and I fear I’ll fail to explain properly. I can only hope you truly see when you look at me. I’m not perfect. I’m perfectly me. I love you.