we’re growing

and growth is essential …
I can talk to my father about
my mental health limitations,
and he breathes through my
explanations, urging himself
to understand.

four years ago, when I told him
I was bisexual, my father knew–
he didn’t flinch, didn’t judge,
and most importantly did not
condemn me.
He simply said, “I’d always known,
I just never knew how to
approach it. What hurts me,
though, is you felt that you
couldn’t tell me.”

and all my life, I’d seen sinners
and saints sinning the same,
and one plucked as a favorite
over the other, so I opened the
closet, and sat safely there …
for 30 years.

and now, gracefully shining
in my 40s, I can say, “Daddy,
remember when?” as I talk about
my closeted days, and he’ll say,
“Yes, baby, I do. And we’re past
that. And we’re growing.”

and we are.
we really are.

and, the troll

Pictured Poetry created by Tremaine L. Loadholt

had been resting in his
space peacefully, and we
disturbed it–waking it
with our boisterous ways
like we’re so good at doing.

defenders of nature cannot
pummel the detriment of
human angst and weaponry;
there are always fatalities
because of stupidity.

we are quick to hurt & harm
what we do not understand,
and then we wonder why
things turn on us.


I watched “Troll” on Netflix just a few minutes ago, and I hadn’t thought I’d be as captivated as I was, but I had been so enthralled by and engrossed in this movie.

If you haven’t watched it, you may want to put that in your queue for later viewing.

It’s worth it.