This I Knead

Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead. Share With Me.

Dear one time friend, Your brother is a rape apologist It's not in his blood, it's in his head; for, being a 'friend', he can't resist fighting battles of he said, he said. Invite me for dinner but don't feel the need to explain away your shame, or that he lacks the eyes to see and ears to hear our plea Just wait until his smile finally cracks. When I look at that boy - whose lips can't be unkissed - with shoulders hanging heavy with dread hearing lies about himself with every turn and twist I think, 'Could it have been me instead?' So, among your family garden, he is the weed with which you all choose to coexist but know this well and clear indeed, your brother is a rape apologist; you'd do well to keep him away from me.  Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead. Share With Me.

To hear is not to listen, but still, something must be expressed before it can be heard . We are all stories, some more kneaded than others and ready for the oven - but baking isn't where the story ends; it finds life in its sharing, its mixing with others for delicious recipes, its preservation for other times. Find a story and start its telling from within and give it life. Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead. Share With Me.

Being a writer is a confusing thing - more so because it's so intimate yet public. While it may be daunting to feel that you have the right words at the right time to write, books are collections of words strung together and change through the time of writing. Start to write and let editing happen later, but you must write it in order for it to become a book! Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead. Share With Me.

The caress of sun rays on a new dawn, makes your skin tingle like ice popping in a sweating cup of cola sizzling with excitement as anticipation trickles down your throat. You are young. You have the world on your side. You are filled with tomorrows and still concerned with missed chances of yesterday. Yet with each passing year and shift of each decade you learn your voice, you make ‘potential’ a verb – you are always a step ahead. You are still young. A delicate cynicism has you hearing – in each breath taken between lines of ‘Happy Birthday’ – choked uncertainty. Your best friend doesn’t know how to buy you gifts. Gifts are meant to get better with time, but, ah, with each year and recital of wishes hitched on a rising heat of hope, uncertainty becomes an anchor. You do not want to be made fools of. Through seasons tomorrow has become another triggering ‘t’ word. Days become years and years blee...

We keep seeing efforts to erase and delegitimise trans-diverse people, lives and bodies. We chose to love and to fight through love. We choose to shine rather than absorb hatred like some vortices with nothing better to do with our existence. We will not be erased. We will not disappear. We will not crumble. The book is available on Amazon and OkadaBooks . Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead. Share With Me.