taken

Photo by Gui França on Unsplash
taken by Tremaine L. Loadholt

I am taken aback by her — by
who she is, what she does, and
how she moves about in
this world.

she is bold — passionate about
life and her surroundings, and
I stand on faltering feet,
wondering when I’ll be
able to l o o s e this confession
curdling my spirit.

I am eating my words
for dinner, submerging my
heart into overflowing waters,
stunted by fears that
tangle my tongue.

women need to come with
instruction manuals, and an
extra five dollars behind
their ears — I got tolls to
pay every time I lose
myself in one of them.

I get shy around her–nerves
tighten my stomach muscles,
and I play hide-n-seek with
my words. 
why am I like this?

does she notice?
will she say something?

and every day we 
shoot the shit like I
ain’t dreaming about cuffing
her to the base of my heart 
and whipping her hips
under my arms.

“I’m a sinner. I’m a saint.”

and I no longer feel
shame in this skin I’m in,
but this woman . . . 
this fine, Black woman,
skips and dashes,
slips and thrashes her
way into my mind more
than I realize, and I

am taken aback by her
again and again and
again.


*Track playing in the background: Sade, Is It a Crime?


Originally published in soliloque via Medium.

At 4 am, She Calls for Comfort

Musical Selection: Patti Labelle & Michael McDonald|On My Own

Part V: Learning to leave anger in the past

A woman standing on the porch with a mug in her hand. Photo by Candice Picard on Unsplash
Photo by Candice Picard on Unsplash

“How dare that son of a bitch put our daughter in the middle like this?! I hated him before, but now?! Rena, I could gut that fool. I’m so angry right now!”

“I know you are. But we have bigger fish to fry now. Bree isn’t mad at you. She isn’t mad at me. She is still open to making amends and being a part of your life again. Cari, that’s big. That’s huge! The universe will deal with Marcus.”

The universe and everything good and beautiful will deal with Marcus.


The morning light peeks in and kisses Cari gently on her cheek. I look at her as she sleeps — so peaceful. So calm. Last night had been an interesting turn of events. It was Marcus the whole time, behind the crazy ploy of me not attending Bree’s graduation. Why would he even think that would work?

“Good morning, beautiful.”

Cari turns to me, looks at me sheepishly, and smiles. She is full of sunshine and elegance. All the years of drugs and pain and torture seem to disappear when I look at her. Her beauty is everlasting.

“Good morning, my love. Are you ready for today? You are coming with me to get our tickets to Bree’s graduation, yes?”

The thickness of her Dutch accent clutches me — reels me in and takes me hostage. I had been thinking about this, and it seems like something she and Marcus should approach as Bree’s parents. I don’t think I should be there for this.

“I’ve been thinking about this, Cari. Marcus has already shown us how he feels about me. This — this entire issue needs resolving and I think you should go at this one alone. While you’re away, I’ll clean up, pack us a couple of light bags, and after the graduation is done, we’ll take a short trip away from these last few days.”

Cari sits up in my bed, raises herself on her elbows, cups my chin in her hands, and steals my heart yet again with her words.

“I won’t let him make me . . . us uncomfortable. Marcus is a baby in a man’s body with plenty of unsettled issues. I will do this alone . . . this time. If he crosses us again, I won’t do it alone. Understood?”

“I hear you and I understand.”


I watch Cari, as she leaves my place. Everything in me feels like shifting — like maybe I made the wrong decision to let her do this alone, but I won’t waver. I’m sure there will be other times we’ll have to stand toe to toe with Marcus and his antics.

When we first started dating, we had some serious knock-down drag-outs with him, and since then, it has been a blessing — learning to leave anger in the past. Learning to live my life with a more Zen-like approach to things rather than raging through it uncontrollably.

Cari may be recovering from drug and alcohol addiction, but I used to be full of anger — that was my drug. That was my nemesis. I gave it up four years ago with the help of counseling, yoga, and taking on more clients.

Bodywork is where I release. Knowing that I can provide a peaceful and tension-free experience for my clients gives me an incredible sense of purpose — an understanding of how important my work is.

Cari will be okay. She’s got this.


I hate that Rena won’t come with me, but I understand her stance on this. Marcus has always been sly and cunning. It wasn’t until we brought a child into this world that I opened — truly opened my eyes to who he was and how he handled life.

And I hated it.

He was not the man I wanted to raise my child with. He could not be who I wanted — who I needed. He lacked the emotional wherewithal to sustain life with me. And after our divorce, the drugs took over, and he had a field day turning our child against me.

As I approach his home, Bree rushes out to greet me. I park the car, ease myself out of it, and walk over to my child. I cannot believe how much she has grown — how lively she looks — how beautiful she is.

Every inch of my body is shaking. She pulls me into the tightest hug I have had in years, and I step back to look at her once again.

“Bree . . . baby girl, you are so beautiful. I am looking at me!”

“Haha. Dad says that all the time, ‘You look just like your mother.’ I think sometimes it angers him — the fact that I look so much like you. Where’s Rena?!”

“She decided it was best for me to come and do this alone. So, I am here by myself to get the tickets and speak to your daddy.”

“He isn’t here. He’s been gone since I woke up this morning — not answering his text messages, either. I kind of figured he’d do that. I told him you were coming to get the tickets.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. He knows there is unsettled business — feelings that I need to get off my chest regarding how he’d been manipulating our child. What a coward!

“Okay, Bree. I will talk to him. He will know how I feel and also how Rena feels about his actions. Let me get these tickets and head back to Rena’s place so we can get ourselves together.”

“Okay, Mom!”

I watch her skip off happily in front of me toward their home. We settle into their kitchen, and she retrieves the tickets from her purse. She confirms the money had been received via CashApp. I hug her tightly, tell her I’ll see her tomorrow, and I head back to Rena’s.


“You should have seen her, Rena — all bubbly and tall and gorgeous! God, the child is the spitting image of me!”

“Haha. You’re kidding, right?! Sabrina has always been the spitting image of you!”

“How have I not seen it before? Seriously, babe. She has my entire face!”

“She always had your entire face! She has your heart, too. I think and I fear, though — the more she’s around her dad, the more he’ll attempt to influence her.”

“And that is what I don’t want. I can’t wait to see her tomorrow in her cap and gown. She has been through a lot — I put her through a lot, but she still got good grades and is going to an exceptional university!”

“She’s a brilliant kid, and I can’t wait to see her continue to excel in life. I’m also looking forward to the two of you building a bond once again.”


We settle into the afternoon sun. The two of us sit peacefully on my balcony, sipping iced coffee, and eating danishes. I take one look at this woman — the woman I love — the woman I would lose myself for, and I feel tears escaping my eyes.

We have the rest of our lives ahead of us — working on who we were, who we need to be, and growing away from our past.

I love her without fail and I will always love her until I cannot.

“Cari,” I whisper lightly in her direction. “Will you move back in with me?”

And as I wait for the answer, the silence in the pause causes my heart to race. She pushes her body up from the chair, smiles slyly at me, and whispers right back . . .

“My love, I have always been here.”


This concludes the At 4 am, She Calls for Comfort series. Thank you for reading!

Need to catch up? Part I, Part II, Part III, and Part IV.

Originally published in Prism & Pen via Medium.


Patti Labelle & Michael McDonald, On My Own, ©1986 Geffen Records

Tina

A Haibun

Tina Turner, image from Smooth Radio

I have decided to give you your flowers while you’re still here. A wonder–a mystic amongst Gods and the ungodly. You have always been captivating. I never wanted to sing. I never wanted to dance. But I have always wanted to write, and you paved the way for me to have this voice–my voice in a world of chaotic flows and shiftless thoughts. You have conquered a sea of endless pain and lived to testify.

Millions of people sing your songs at the top of their lungs–breaths poured into the air that land at your feet. We still stand in awe of you; so incredibly in love with you, we speak your name . . . Tina.

Legends can be born
To be what legends should be
You are so much more


And now, one of my favorite Tina Turner songs.

Tina Turner, What’s Love Got To Do With It?

Wolf in the Sheep

Musical Selection: Hezekiah Walker & LFC|Grateful

A Haibun

A black and white image of three wolves.
Photo by Tom Pottiger on Unsplash

Dear God, please help me to recognize the wolf in the sheep. Amen. — Tremaine L. Loadholt


I cannot say I have been your most humble servant, but I have served. I have been patient. I have been kind — albeit, for the days when my body aches and a few people tap dance on my nerves, I have been kind. I have forgiven the unforgivable. I have shown grace to the intolerable. I have spotted flaws and continual mishaps in those closest to me, and I have overlooked them — choosing to spot the mistakes and faults in myself and work on those, instead.

I do have a spotty temper. It appears when I least expect it, and I try to center myself in a place where peace will leave my mouth instead of pain/hurt/anguish. I don’t want to be one of those hurt people who hurt people. You know my heart.

Father give me peace
in this treacherous, sick world
I am yours to mold

There are some who are flocking toward me. Their presence seems odd — out of place. I am not familiar with the approaches they have. Are they here to help me or are they here to harm me? Please show me the wolf in the sheep. Help me determine who I should lean into and who I should fall away from.

I am trying to honor your word. I am trying to keep your commandments. But I am human, and by design, I falter. I stumble. I make horrible decisions and seek your counsel afterward. Yahweh, God of all, lend me the intelligence to seek out those who have knives ready to stab me in the back yet greet me with smiles regularly.

I desire more growth
but change begins with my heart
make me heaven’s gift


Originally published in soliloque via Medium.


Hezekiah Walker and LFC, Grateful

another autumn

musical selection: bilal|love poems

a reflective poem

A photo of an excited, beautiful woman of color with blue hair.
Photo by StockSnap via Pixabay

autumn is still in
the infant stages, but
I can feel the pull of
old things being made
new, and I wonder if
you’ve found work in
the industry you’d be
applying to for nearly
a decade.

I want to tell you I’m
still searching, but
that is a lie. I have
discovered peace in
this section of the
medical field after
twenty years, and there
are better opportunities
ahead.

there is a woman
who speaks about
authenticity and showing
up in spaces where empathy
no longer has a seat, and
I can’t help but be reminded
of your strong voice
and approach to all
things beautiful & just.

I am working on creating
a better me; therapy, stories,
and soldiering onward
with a senior dog who
still has the right
amount of sass to
suss out things and
people who
don’t belong around us
anymore.

we built a rocky foundation
on poetry and kinship,
and I am still out here
using words to clear
my head.
how much of this
is work and how much
of it is pleasure?

another autumn is here — I’m
greeting it with
old eyes and sketchy thoughts.
but it’s here, nonetheless.


Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.

℗2000 Interscope Geffen. Bilal, Love Poems