Serenity (For Nala)

Nala, sleeping peacefully. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

You will always be unmatched.
No other dog will come into
this Auntie’s heart the way you did.
You wrecking-balled your way
through–adamant about what
was necessary for your comfort.

Jernee hooked herself onto you
and wouldn’t let go.
She had to be around you and
follow your every move.
The jealous one hated to share
my lap but when you visited,
that’s where you found rest.
She had to get over it.

You claimed my empty guestroom
as your own, spending countless
moments of solitude with its space.
I never had to search for you,
I knew that’s where you were.
“You will be missed” doesn’t
say enough. It cannot say
all that I need it to say.

How do I tell Jernee?
What will be her reaction the next
time we visit your Mommy?
Will the silence deafen her?
Will she look for traces of you,
ever-vigilant to find them?
I don’t want to know what
this world is without the care
and comfort of a dog.

I’m glad you held time as
long as you could.
Warrior-dog, sassy and sweet,
and a safe space.
Serenity rained from your paws,
and we quickly understood the
beauty of Boston Terriers.

Oh, Nala, I don’t want you to
let go of my heart, but
I’ll have to find peace knowing
the skies opened up to
welcome a fur angel.

Rest well, pretty girl.


**Last night, Wednesday, September 22, 2021, my best friend had to put Nala down. This sweet girl had been fighting her hardest for the last three years to continue living. However, she had a seizure and was rushed to the emergency vet. It was there, the decision was made to let this sweet baby go. Those of you who have followed me for years know both Nala and Jernee as Double Trouble and I am surely going to miss her. Words cannot express how much, they simply cannot. Thank you for reading.

If I Blink, He Disappears


I want to tell him that the days of us
growing together sneak up on me
at times — unexpected. I still love him.
I find myself searching through 
old arguments to see where we 
missed the point of clarity.
How did we not understand what
was right in front of us?

I have gray hair in places unthinkable — 
everything is aging and I’ve lost 
my way from him. I thought,
I couldn’t catch up to him — 
he wasn’t my speed. I ran
and ran and ran and kicked up 
dust in three different States, yet
we never saw eye to eye.

If I blink, he disappears. 
I want to hold on to the memories
of us for as long as my chest
heaves up and down and as far
as my legs will carry me, but time
is no longer of the essence.

Everything is aging.
I find myself searching through 
old arguments to see where we 
missed the point of clarity.
Our wrinkles tell the story of us
and the past lives we’ve lived.
He is still my fantasy unfulfilled,
my wants go unnoticed.
Should I tell him my heart 
still has space for him?

A friend of mine said she 
hopes one day I meet someone
because I’m such a great human. 
But am I, though? Is there something missing?
Something that could make me more?
I struggle with these questions — 
these questions of me and who
I was and who I should be.

If I blink, he disappears.
I want to tell him that the days of us
growing together sneak up on me
at times — unexpected. I still love him.
I do. I wonder if he knows this.
Should I tell him?


Originally published in soliloque via Medium.


Musical Selection: Luther Vandross|Better Love

YouTube

Surrender (Revised)

the lust-filled air summons us,
our hearts bent on breaking.
I have reached my limit for
raising hell and you
throw up a white flag.

surrendering never looked
so sexy.

this is what I tell myself
as I watch your body
cascade away from me . . .
you are a rhythm I fear
but I long for too.

could I be falling for the image
of you?

we lie awake
aware of the tempest between us
and life saddles us with
a harsh decision . . .

lean in or run away,
I choose to surrender.

Turn My Body Loose

Abbott Birth by Victor Garcia. Used with permission.

A poetic rant

We, women . . . we cling to our bodies
our sense of self wrapped up in them
and warped to nothingness by the
White men who use their minds to
belittle and belie our truths at every
corner — at every junction. 
How are we to live in a nation
full of vultures?

How are we to cope?

A balking group of people has
made it their life’s work to
strip the woman of the one
thing we had total control over — the body.
And what next? What will they 
search and seize and lasso into
their slimy possession that 
belongs to us?

We are yclept weaker or lesser 
yet they use laws to silence us — to push
us into the closets of their making.
Is it fear? Is it egotistical? Is it bullying?
What can we say about the men 
who have no desire to protect us?
What can we say about the women
who support them?

Turn my body loose. You have
no reign here — it is mine. I carry it,
I nurture it — grow it into the massive
mountain you wish you could climb.
Tread lightly, though, I can shake it
and rattle you at my will. 
I can crush you if ever I feel the need to.

Were these your reasons? Is this your why?

Could you no longer take the 
strength and representation within
something built of atoms and flesh and blood
that is not solely yours?
It boggles my mind how senseless
human beings have become 
but even more so, how drunk with 
power many men are.

If it were up to me, I’d rally
the world around us to bury
your tongues in the potholes meant 
for them and turn the sun’s rays
up higher — burn, motherfucker, burn.
We’d stand by, fan the flames, and 
call Lucifer to your collective side.

We’d let him have his way with you,
just as you’ve had yours with us.


Originally published in my new publication, soliloque, via Medium.