Dead in Akron

An Audio Lamentation for Jayland Walker

Photo by bimo mentara on Unsplash
Dead in Akron by Tremaine L. Loadholt

90 shots fired?
90? 90? Are we sure?
Could be a little more
Could be a little less.
Who’s counting? When it’s
us, who’s counting?

You can’t be Black and young
and afraid of authorities in
America, it’s ammunition
for their ammunition, and
you will never win against
their numbers.

The system was designed to
hunt us like deer
draw our slain bodies from
the scene, and mount us
above their mantels;
prizes for their buddies
to gawk at.

There are checks being
cut for the officials
who can sell the most
bullshit in the darkest times
and the 1% has scrambled to
collect their due.

While we continue to
drop like flies, letters
lacking empathy are issued
to grieving families and lawyers
prepare themselves to seek
the highest monetary amount
possible as though money
resurrects the dead.

What do you do when
you’ve become numb to
the constant pain that settles
in your bones?
It’s there, you know it’s there
but now … it lingers
like a reminder, one you
claim as a task to get
rid of, yet …

You never will.


©2022 Tremaine L. Loadholt Originally published in soliloque via Medium.

“After a car chase, Walker got out of his car and a foot chase took place, police said. Officers believed Walker was reaching towards his waist and they ‘felt that Mr. Walker had turned and was motioning and moving into a firing position,’ Mylett said.

Walker, however, was not armed, Mylett said Sunday.” — Samantha Beecher & Dakin Andone, CNN News

sworn in

6.30.22, a memorable day
for decades to come
as history was fine-tuned
when it added you

can justice be revived
will we see it have
lasting breaths breathed
into it

representation still needs
our focus, but it feels
right to watch you
don the robes of
the highest court in
our system

it feels right to
witness a woman
of your stature finally
receive her flowers while
she’s still living

it is “right as rain”
and cleansing waters
rush over me–elation
is an understatement

This Is How We Pass the Time

Jernee Timid Loadholt gazing at the scene before her on our early morning walk. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

Haiku, 3 Parts

little precious one
stops to admire the scene
first day of summer

a cool breeze greets us
the air isn’t too dry yet
we pause for effect

it’s how we pass time
taking cautious steps toward
rolling hills of green



©2022 Tremaine L. Loadholt Originally published on Simily.

We Don’t Want To Rewind Time

And why would we?

Baby Tre and my dad, “Big Mike.” From the family archives.

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.


Originally published in soliloque via Medium.