Just because they say we’re “free” doesn’t mean it’s actually so. But we celebrate what should have been our freedom, what could have been our freedom, what was meant to be our freedom. When we’re all free, then freedom will make sense.
Category: Holidays
We Don’t Want To Rewind Time
And why would we?
A lone, baby girl — your first, sheltered in your embrace.
You loved her. You love her. Old photos are passed
down through the hands of a younger
baby girl. You love her, too.
How have our memories been floating
around the family tree making
their way through our bloodline?
I look at this photo, it moves me.
I am centered and sure of myself
and happy. I knew I was safe in
one of my favorite places — my father’s arms.
Does your youngest know this, too?
If only we could rewind time but
why would we? What would that accomplish?
There is an overaged pain that
sneaks up on me and reminds me
of better days but life isn’t
too keen on rekindling old flames.
I have lost my fire.
But I look at this lone, baby girl
and I remember being loved.
I remember using your arm
as my personal swing.
I remember learning how to swim
and being tickled until
my toes cramped from nonstop laughter.
I remember you. I remember you.
And I count it as a blessing
there are still memories to recall
of happier days when I was
a lone, baby girl leaning
into safe arms learning how to love.
©2022 Tremaine L. Loadholt
Father’s Day is fast approaching in the US, and I still can’t say some of the things I wish to say to my father without choking up but I can always tell him, “I love you,” because I do. And I always will. If you’re a father, may someone spill a little love down on you this coming weekend. Peace and blessings.
Mothers, I Celebrate You
The workaholic
Who never has enough sleep
Cares for everyone
Undeniable
My gift to you is this love
Your existence saves
Mothers, God bless you
You bloom when we all wither
Weeping willows sing
Happy Mother’s Day to those of you who are mothers, those of you mothering others who are not your own, caretakers and rescuers and do-gooders. Thank you for who you are and what you do. I celebrate you.
I Understand True Love Doesn’t Sleep
A Prose Poem
The day of love approaches — savored lips flaunt in the midnight air — an enticing invitation for feelings swaddled in blankets too tight for release.
I have my ways, I know. You tell me this often, and I do hear you. I do. But I find my ways to be risky if I veer too far away from them — they’ll find me. They’ll seek me out.
And once I’ve been repurposed and re-homed, they will betray me. You have been my ruin for different shades of many moons — I want out.
I understand true love doesn’t sleep, but this feels like death — pre-meditated. I don’t remember signing up for this. *“You were light, but you were never my sun.”
I gave you a place at the table of my world — you sopped at every morsel, buried your woes at my feet. I welcomed the torment. I opened my door to the revolution and it struck me without warning.
I am burned by the light of a star.
Here . . . there are scars that refuse to heal. Here . . . there is pain that continues a cycle. Here . . . there is a heavy cross to bear.
I am broken from carrying it.
I wait for you — afraid that if I move forward in time with someone who walks on high heels and flashes deep dimples in my direction, I will fall and won’t be able to stand and steady myself in an upright position. She makes me weak.
And while the lovers of this realm ululate at the sight of a full moon on a day more special than your favorite sin, I will bite my tongue, don my adulting garb, and thank God for the new pair of balls I’ve grown.
I don’t believe in true love. I did believe in you.
I don’t anymore.
*Taken from the indomitable Sarah Doughty.
Year of the Tiger
“If we’re going to burn this year
let’s burn brightly”Very well said, by Bartholomew Barker. This is a delightful poem. Please swing by Bart’s little neck of the blogosphere and check it out.
Year of the Tiger
That Cheshire cat grin
of the slim crescent
setting in the twilight
is the smirk of a tiger
Will we catch it by the tail
or will the fire in its eyes
ignite the tinder as we saunter
into the flames
If we’re going to burn this year
let’s burn brightly
Happy Lunar New Year! This poem written to the prompts Tiger and Saunter and, of course, shamelessly stolen lines from Blake.
My New Year’s Love and Me
A Prose Poem
My wild-haired love sits comfortably in our space. I stare at her — globes for eyes, a song for a heart . . . she gifts me life. I haven’t had to search for a love stronger than hers in thirteen years — a milestone.
No one can compete. No one can compare.
She is a constant reminder of all things good in this world, and I breathe fresher air when she is near.
The new year tiptoes into sight, carrying unknowns along beaten paths. I will bask in the peace that is the comfort of a lap dog’s patterned pants.
I am safe. I am free.
With family struck ill by an overgrown virus, my stomach is double-knotted as worry sinks itself into my veins. I am prayerful. I am hopeful. They will all survive.
But if death comes knocking again, I’ll plead with him to leave the babies alone. I may get my wish. I may not. But at least I’d state my case. At least he’ll know how I feel about his existence.
A day off from work to spend wisely with a four-legged gem who doesn’t need me to be anything more than I am is a present daring to be opened daily. I unwrap it knowing underneath its covering is and forever will be happiness . . .
And love.
And a look of captivation and admiration from an animal who doesn’t speak my language but understands everything I say.
*It is my hope and prayer each of you will be safe and connected in some way to family and love as you usher in a new year. May it be a happy and prosperous one. Peace and blessings.
A Cornered Gurl 
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