Write

Write they say.
Write words that convey.
Some form of message.
One they want to hear.
One for eager ears.
Do they want contentment or contempt.
Do they want a lesson learned or better yet.
Do they want a story beyond all they have ever read, or ever thought.
But I've read that book, I have already bought.
A spine bound and the pages are torn.
A heart was broken, a dreamer born.
For the best book that was ever read
Lives inside of me, inside of my head.

Letters

I don't write letters like the way that I did before. I don't write them the way that I did to you, trying to settle the score.

I don't write letters, so convinced that you had to know my every thought, and there was no point in saving face because I had already fallen short.

I don't write letters like before but there still are words unspoken, unwritten. At least from me. But they are unwelcome here. They lack civility.

I don't write letters anymore, ones that are used to convey, the desperation of a girl, and all that it is impossible to say.

I don't write you letters anymore, and swirl your name across the 'lope, whilst dreaming of your face, living in constant hope.

I don't write letters anymore, spelling out the secrets in my heart, open invitations for you to pull me apart.

I don't write letters anymore, simply because I cannot live that way. A misunderstood intention, an unintentional fray.

I don't write letters anymore, I can't handle the noise. Just because I gave them to you, don't think I gave them to all of the boys.


9-27-13

Wedding

My sister, almost exactly a decade ago, decided to set off to England by herself. She emigrated, by herself, as many South Africans do, with inferior coats and far too little money than really is needed to survive and thrive. Now exactly 10 years later we stand here today, to celebrate her wedding to Sukhi, a most wonderful mate, a real friend, a man with a taste of adventure, with a sense of soulful humour, absolute decency resonating throughout him, a family man... and most importantly, a man who loves to do the ironing.

In September 2006 when my mom had moved to Los Angeles, we gathered as a family and briefly toured Southern California. It was during that time when Antoinette told us she was going to India. We thought okay, you have gone to England by yourself now, and now you want to go to India... What next? China? Indonesia?

Little did we know that she was literally going to India... To be an Indian Bride... This fussy child who didn't eat a single vegetable, except potatoes, was suddenly cooking the most wonderful curries and educating us about spices.

And finally in December 2013, she did indeed go to India, this time to purchase her wedding dress.

So I salute you dear sister, for your incredible strength. You are so driven, so absolute in your needs and your wants and your desires, and you set your sights on a goal, and you attain them, almost on your own. It is so wonderful to see that you have met your match in this jolly soul named Sukhi. I am grateful that he is your soft place to fall. He is your best friend. And that he is absolutely deserving of your love. Sukhi, from the time we have met you, we have known you were our brother. We are beyond ecstatic with your nuptials. Salut!