forgive me

Lune #12 of 25

forgive me, my love,
let’s make up–
calm these stormy seas.


*A lune (rhymes with moon) is a very short poem. It has only three lines. It is similar to a haiku. A haiku has three lines, and it follows a 5/7/5 syllable pattern. The lune’s syllable pattern is 5/3/5. Since the middle line is limited to three syllables, it is often the shortest line of the three. This makes a lune curve a bit like a crescent moon.

For the next twenty-five days, except Saturdays and Sundays, I will share a lune with each of you. This is Lune #12 of this project.

The Gift of Humility

Art by Loni Thompson via Mixkit.co

God has a way of
sitting your ass down
when all you want to do
is ignore your body’s pain,
push through its topsy turvy
attitude, and rage against
your limitations. You want to
show it that you have the upper hand.

You don’t.
You want to believe that you do.
But, you don’t.

One morning, you’re fine.
The day is just like any other,
you fill your body with the
needed iron and Vitamin D it lacks,
you eat a hearty breakfast,
drink a cup of coffee,
and bounce your way out of the door.

The next morning, you’re blocked.
The bed locks you in.
Your back cramps up — spasms,
you brace yourself for torture.
Your left leg tightens.
You know this pain.

You know what’s coming.
You try to get up, try to
beat the rush of thunder
that rattles your bones, your
own personal storm.
You know the rain . . .

The pounding and
howling winds.
You also know, it will pass.

You lie back down,
caress the bed that caresses you,
and try to close your eyes.
You take this moment.
You free yourself from
work, running errands,
editing, research, publishing,
and saving someone else’s day.

You swallow that saucy pride
of yours and realize, finally, realize
that today is the day
you better try to save
yourself.


Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.

The Crossroads

TwinTrees
Twins: Photo Credit Tremaine L. Loadholt

I never thought a heart could
break into a million pieces
until you captured mine,
mangled it, shook past lives
from its hold, and wagered
with its weight.
your storm is what I needed most.

Since your departure,
I look at my hands,
my fingers, my feet, my toes.
nothing looks the same.
nothing feels the same.

I am this new thing without you.
I have had time to crawl
into spaces left unchecked,
pull out my confidence,
and rest in the wake of
a healing body.

I am at a crossroads —
one road less traveled versus
another with potholes
and traffic jams.
and I see myself smiling,
happier to have had this loss.

This, in a bold and gratifying way,
is my muse. It is my understanding
of a new world without blinders.
Without stop signs and smoke signals.
It is my appreciation for a détente
in the middle of a growth spurt.
For a measured path at
the end of a tethered rope . . .

I bet you didn’t think
I would thank you for
this growth one day, but
I am grateful for every
denouncement you threw
in my direction.

I wear stronger gloves now
and the next series of
curveballs headed
this way will be fiercely caught.


©2018 & Edited 2020, Tremaine L. Loadholt. Originally posted via Medium behind its paywall. The link shared is a friend link.

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Featured Writer for February

Ngang God’swill N. is a contributor to A Cornered Gurl and has been for quite some time. I have the great pleasure of watching this young man spread his wings and get rather vocal on Medium. Just from interacting with him and reading his work, I can tell that his heart is genuine and he has his mindset on reaching out to others and connecting with them too.

The piece I have selected to share is a non-fictional piece detailing the importance of letting boys express themselves, cry, and get emotional when they need to so that when they grow up to become men, they understand their emotions and know how to love genuinely and give vulnerable pieces of themselves to others. It is a letter in poetical-prose that touched me as soon as I read it.


Don’t Let Them Become Like Me

A letter to you all.

Hello you,

You may not have known or realized this, but remember all those times I couldn’t speak, that I shut the door and hid from you? Rember that I blocked you and rejected your calls. Do you remember all the days I couldn’t smile, when my voice was a shameful whisper?
I was begging you to save me.
I was begging you to read me, to reach me.

Photo by bimo mentara on Unsplash

It’s like this you see, a man must not cry. Must be bold and sharp, strong and enduring, like a super being. But where should I keep all this pain I feel boiling inside, this confusion that chokes me, this insecurity and fear that threatens to break me? Where should I keep these tears that drown my heart, flood my lungs and leave me gasping for air?

You fail to see that I am human too. When you cut me, I bleed; and when you kiss me, I feel those wild sensations too. I sleep when I get weary when my bones ache and my breath feels like a bath of boiling water. But you shut your eyes to all these and dish out violence upon my gentle heart. Stealing all the compassion, the love of my boyish heart, and the color of my toddler days. How much do you think I can take?

How can you now demand water from a rock? How can you ask me to give you love? Where do you think I will get it? I do not know love. Ask me for pain; that is all you’ve ever given me.

You were consistent in my dosage; generations, eras, millennia. It has always been the same, I remember. So ask of me pain, and I will give you all that you have given me, and like the good servant in the Bible; I will also give you all the proceeds it yielded.

I didn’t stop loving, the choice was never mine to make. Attention-deficit is all I have ever known, blindfolded and plunged into an illusion that tomorrow rests on my shoulders alone. Systematically, you heaped the world on my shoulders, one piece at a time till you could barely see me beneath it all. Slowly I slipped into the darkness underneath and sipped in the darkness. It was a gentle process, incessant and scheduled, till my soul became a shadow; with logic for a compass. Now you know why I dish out the most hurt;

Because I am even more hurt and broken than this world.

Somehow, in all this blackness, this journey of pain, abandonment, betrayal, and brokenness, you expect me to be something I’m not. Caring, sensitive, respectful; YOU LIE!

It is painful to scrape off layers accumulated over the years, I will have to relive all the wounds again; the fights and loneliness. The days I realized that my sister’s proper raising was more important than mine, that I was just not important.

How do you expect me to forget the entitlement lessons drilled into me on the battlefield, the silence where I battled with purpose and personality? Tell me how to forget family responsibilities on my shoulders at age twelve, or the pressure it brought. I was a man, RIGHT?!

How can I forget the sacrifices, the stories that haunt my mind; the horrors I have lived? The things I have done and the decisions I have taken that have caused so much hurt to people. Tell me how can I get back the pieces of my soul, the ones I traded to help fulfill my role as a man. Because I am at a loss, I am yet again in another chat with self; of purpose and personality. Will you let me find an answer again? ALONE!?

I have been a man all my life, and I understand what the pressure can do to one’s sanity. You can’t understand as I do, this penis is a personal cross.
Still, from the madness and insanity, I try to reach out to all that is mine. The love you stole from my heart, the laughter and warmth that once made me tick, the calm and cordial temperaments that once made me. The same things you denied me and gave my sister, then praised her over me, as though the choice was mine.

And it’s known that destruction is an easier path, but here, this pit, dismantling is near impossible. It is like having a go at a baobab tree, with a broomstick praying and hoping for a miracle; I will persist still. But for these little ones, these baby brothers you just birthed, please be kinder to them.

Here is a unique chance to right all the wrongs, to wash away the stain. Treat these lads right, tell them it is okay to cry, to love and to not always know the answer. Teach them that it is okay to be human, to make mistakes. Teach them that humanity is a team — brother and sister — and that life is a team sport.

Don’t let them become like me; let them be better.


Originally published inA Cornered Gurlvia Medium.

 

Non-fiction Saturdays

Protecting My Inner Child

Respecting My Youthful Spirit

Photo by Daniel Edeke via Pexels
 

Our psyche, with its vast inner-workings, is crucial to maintain. The childlike layer of the human soul, mind, or spirit is categorized as the inner-child. I joke with people who connect with me for the first time — “I am a big kid.” This is what I share openly. Although in most cases, it’s meant to break the ice, there is much truth to this phrase.

I build bonds, strengthen love, and laugh loudly with and around children. I am at peace in their presence. Not only do I find fun and productive things for them to do, but I also enjoy most of what they enjoy too. Watching cartoons or animated films, coloring or finger-painting, and playing at the park, just to name a few.

As adults, it can be easy to lose ourselves in the bowels of adulthood and forget how happy we can be experiencing a few things that children often do. We sometimes tend to believe that our personal worlds will crash if we take a moment to lose ourselves within our younger selves. How else are we going to stay youthful if we forget how to live fully?

Seline Shenoy offers “5 Ways To Keep Your Inner Child Alive” by listing and going into detail about the five things she believes will keep you young at heart.

Creative pursuits and hobbies: Children thrive on creativity and find immense joy in expressing themselves. They just grab those crayons, paint brushes or Play-Doh and let their artistry unleash. Without the worries of being judged.

Treat yourself to nostalgia: Have you ever listened to a song on the radio that instantly took you back to a certain phase in your life? You can experience these pleasurable sensations of nostalgia by creating opportunities to remember or relive the things that you loved as a child.

Laughter, music, and dance: As we grow older, we lose our spontaneity and our ability to have a good time because we’re so worried about what people might think. I believe that we can regain our spontaneity by enjoying three universal pleasures of life – laughter, music and dance.

Schedule playtime with children: When you immerse yourself in an environment with children, you’ll notice that you take on a more bouncy and playful persona.

Go off on adventures: We can break the monotony of our routines by bringing back that enthusiasm for adventures. While it would be great to travel to exotic destinations such as Paris or Bali, we can create miniature adventures in our own backyards.

I agree with her viewpoint and the five ways to keep your inner child alive. I believe we owe it to our aging minds and bodies to try to find and keep the good parts of us thriving. When I tap into my inner child, I have happier days, I sleep harder and longer, and I feel an encapsulating sense of peace at the end of those days.

Photo by Kiana Bosman via Unsplash

When I spend time with my younger cousins, I glow. It is often hard to tear the smile away from my face whenever they are around. I entertain them by joining them in their imaginary games, I give piggy-back rides, we play choo-choo train, and take walks up and down their neighborhood, or we visit the park. With them, I succeed in completing all five things Seline Shenoy mentions above. They are keeping me young and young at heart.

The fact is that the majority of so-called adults are not truly adults at all. We all get older. Anyone, with a little luck, can do that. But, psychologically speaking, this is not adulthood. True adulthood hinges on acknowledging, accepting, and taking responsibility for loving and parenting one’s own inner child. For most adults, this never happens. Instead, their inner child has been denied, neglected, disparaged, abandoned or rejected. — Stephen A. Diamond, Ph.D.

It is important to protect and take care of our inner child. The very parts of us that give us pure joy and elation and allows us to be free without second-guessing ourselves as children often do are the same parts of us that hold on to childhood trauma. Balancing how we cater to our innermost fears and succumbing to maturity in adulthood can save us a lot of pain and sorrow.

If we silence the inner child or suppress it, we could find ourselves struggling even more in adulthood. It is okay to embrace your quirky sense of humor. Go on and tell a few appropriate yet funny jokes. Are you thinking about enjoying a ride on the bumper cars or circling around on a Ferris wheel at a State Fair or theme park? Sure, do it! Let your inner child run free. Give yourself the freedom to dance openly outside while the sun kisses your skin. Your inner child will thank you.

Balancing how we cater to our innermost fears and succumbing to maturity in adulthood can save us a lot of pain and sorrow.

For many, it is not an adult self directing their lives, but rather an emotionally wounded inner child inhabiting an adult body. A five-year-old running around in a forty-year-old frame. — Stephen A. Diamond, Ph.D.

The above is what we want to and should avoid in our adulthood. I have been blessed to always have little ones around to keep me focused on just how joyful one can be even with the pitfalls waiting for me to lose my balance. I am also aware of when seriousness is necessary and childlike behavior is not. Knowing when to give your inner child attention and allow your psyche the ability to let loose depends on the person.

We are all different and we have ways we think work for us, however, if we drown this part of our psyche, conforming to what society believes an adult should be, we could lose it forever.

I will strive to keep my inner child happy and my youthful spirit alive. I have seen the positive results from being a “big kid” and balancing my adult duties too. I think I may go outside and hula hoop or jump rope.

Care to join me?


Originally published in The Startup via Medium. The link shared is a friend link as this is a piece behind Medium’s paywall.

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Creative content straight from the mind of an innovator trying to shift the world with her writing.

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