“There’s no problem so awful, that you can’t add some guilt to it and make it even worse.” (voice of comic strip character, Calvin, The Complete Calvin and Hobbes)
I found the following short poem among a stack of papers I saved. The pile needed to be faced before it reached the ceiling. Copies of stories since published, others that fit in the practice-until-you-get-it-right category, and sentimental items. I kept a few letters from friends now deceased. A birthday letter I wrote to my dad.
The pile is gone. The recycling bin was heavy before it was dragged away. The moment is free now.
I wrote Guilt in the winter of 1994. That is what it says at the bottom of the original. I can’t recall why that information was significant. I also don’t remember why these simple five lines appeared on blue parchment. It doesn’t matter. Move on… Learn… Grow…
A pinch of guilt
when used as spice
accentuates the real.
Regret is indigestible
when served as the main meal.
terrypetersen 