Month: November 2021

Hell in a Handbasket, but There’s Still Time for Autumn

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One of the last trees to still sport its autumn leaves. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

This nation, as I see it, is going to Hell in a handbasket. It will be carried by the same naysayers who believe the all-knowing and loving God is for their hypocritical ways and do not oppose their actions. The God you serve is not the God I serve. My God is more than likely weeping as he watches His children carry on like fools, senselessly taking the lives of others, running amok without fair cause, and denying human beings basic rights.

You are playing a flute that holds no sound, yet you want me to listen. Where is your melody? How does it benefit me? When will it actually do something worthwhile?

We elected a president who, when it all falls down, has sided with a judicial system that purposes a select few. He has said out of his mouth, to respect the system, to acknowledge what has been done peacefully. For real? Like, for real . . . real? Acknowledge a system that has NEVER worked in anyone of color’s favor? Acknowledge a system and respect it that could not bring forth a verdict that actually makes sense?

It is 2021, yet we are reliving days of Antebellum. There is no escaping this. This is what they want. And to get to where they intend to seek refuge, they will continue to whittle us down like pieces of wood.

I’m so tired of people making excuses for America. America has ALWAYS been this way. She isn’t changing. Her ways are not so distant from the 1800s–they’re only slightly different.

I walked through my neighborhood today, still seething in anger from an unjust system. I tried to remain calm. I tried to look to Jernee for some semblance of peace. But I found it . . . in the last leaves of autumn.

**I don’t intend to argue or go back and forth with anyone about my thoughts, feelings, and opinions. I know what I’ve lived, witnessed, been forced to do, and experienced. Racism is still alive and well. I don’t need anyone to tell me what is and isn’t.

But–Had He Been A Man of Color . . .

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this dated system
works for melanin-challenged
liars on the stand

there is no justice
for the black man or woman
there never will be

it’s easy when you
have what they are looking for
you get off scot-free

The American “criminal” justice system is an effing joke. How one can be absolved of all wrong-doing when it’s clearly present and lives have been lost because of it is a constant mind-blowing thing to me. But, really . . . I’m not shocked. Re: The Kyle Rittenhouse verdict.

Behold the Love of A Big Sister

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A free verse poem

My oldest niece Tierney and my youngest nephew, Thyrie. Big sister and baby brother.

I can relate . . .
the happiness swimming across
her face is the same way I
reacted to my first brother
and my last brother and
then finally, my sister.
for the eldest, it never gets old.

there’s always enough love
left for another — always.

I focus on her smile,
simple yet wholesome.
anyone can tell there is
a sense of pride — a sense of
absolute joy as she holds
her baby brother in her arms.

he is comfortable — at ease.
it’s as if he knows, in her care,
he is safe.
the two of them — instantly
bonded, forever.
tears escape my eyes
in this moment of
admiration.

I am putty
for the two of them — stuck
to the love they display,
comforted by it.
this is an aunt’s safe space,
my world of wonder.

I could live here forever.
please don’t make me leave.

behold the love of a
big sister as she cradles
her youngest sibling . . .
does it touch you?
does it strengthen you?
can you relate too?

beauty manifests in various
forms — small packages of
simple photographs become
remnants of peace.
they are keepsakes to
reach for when the
rough seas pull us in.

I’m grateful for them.
I can tell, she is too.

Special thanks to my brother, TJ, for permission to use the above photograph of my oldest niece Tierney, and my youngest nephew, Thyrie. This poem was originally published via Medium.