This I Knead

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

Image Credit: kelseytaylor210.wordpress.com Should your freedom depend on diminishing someone else's dignity you are no better off than those who oppress you. Your words come harmless wielding flags and slogans but your bullet cap teeth crunch and hurtle pain and you close your eyes to pray. Your truth has been compromised by your hunger yet compassion peels your eyes open and you turn from ' God ' towards Love. Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead. Share With Me.

I confronted my fears and became the serpent you said you knew me to be. I dislocated my mouth to hold your words, and still they wouldn't call it home. My mother's tongue is foreign - now. My father's brow is lighter - now. My bedtime song is more sombre - now. Your eyes, I guess, are less distracted - now. What I wouldn't have done for myself I did for you. What I wouldn't have given for love I gave for you. What I would have had for life I surrendered to you. What I would have been, Where I could have been, How I could have been, Still leaves no blame with you - no fault - even now. I have no words for I have no face for I have no voice for I gave it all to you.  Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead. Share With Me.

They took his tongue the day my father died. Declared it an act; a rite. Soon they called me daughter, my child, nnana-girl. But their hands, still, were not his. They didn't have scarred wrists from being pulled behind horse mounted militia. They had fingerprints; unlike his fingers rubbed smooth by tailor made hollows of sanctuary. They didn't know the bitterness of the hot, angry earth under a rubber sole stamped face. Theirs didn't have the shiny oblong mark from forbidden sticky hot caramel made one midnight to chase sorrow at a secret feast. Theirs didn't smell of camphor. Their didn't know where to rub out my sadness. Theirs didn't know the rhymes of the summer winds. I never got to hear my father's voice; just his words which felt blunted against their corn yellow smiles. They took my father's tongue and turned it into a letter opener. Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead. Share With Me.

“I’m alone” came his voice over the line. She scorched her tongue once more with the too sweet coffee. Energy seeped through both their ears while wine fueled cheer buzzed in the hallway. In the morning the maid sprayed carpet cleaner on the plum stains while the forensic team plucked markers off the walls.  “They could have helped him” rang a gravelled voice.  “If only.” she chimed; “Blood’s terrible on loop pile.” Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead. Share With Me.

I find myself sitting in a café on Durban Road in Cape Town and wondering whether or not I am in the same country as the terrible xenophobic attacks. Coldplay’s “Yellow” is playing in the background, the “Food Network” is playing on the muted televisions, and everyone is absorbed in their own conversation with the occasional eyeing of what is happening on the street or in the café. I have always wondered if money can buy you happiness, and thought that the principle was too black or white. What I have come to realise by being in this café and watching couples walk in for their lunchtime date, or friends walk in laughing at raised volumes, or watching the homeless person on the road battling the cruel cape winds, is that money can buy you blindness. I am flicking down my Facebook news feed and almost breaking out into tears in public (something I never do) because of the images some of my friends are posting about the attacks in Kwa Zulu Natal, and I am surprised by the nu...

(Written and Recited by Katlego K Kol-Kes) I was younger last night and I dreamed of candy Before I knew that sweet things Are often better left untouched. I was younger last night and I dreamed of forever Before I knew that eternity Is worse lived than the fairytales teach. I was younger last night and I dreamed of “I’m sorry” Before I knew that words can’t heal A broken smile or a shattered heart once surrendered. I was younger last night and I dreamed of holding hands  Before I knew that being too close for comfort Sometimes leads to burning tyre necklaces and forced intercourse. I was younger last night and I dreamed of home Before I knew that brick walls Are no safer than battle fields. I was younger last night and I dreamed of memories Before I knew that forgetting Would be the antidote to keeping my loved ones so. I was younger last night and I dreamed of death Before I knew that even an unwelcome acqua...