Transition

It’s been almost five years I have been at the university studying law, and for the most part, I have stayed low and kept to my books.

All that changed when I met him.

Kelvin was different and I knew he had me from the moment I saw him. Our discussions were quite poetic and filled with sexual innuendo – him, a rejected son and one who’d sworn to play by his own rules and me, the one who had played safe for a long time. It was bound to be a tempest but I ignored all the warnings.

I took a puff of Kush for the first time in December 2015 at Kelvin’s insistence. That was the beginning of the end. There were too many nights spent enraptured in his arms as he wrote a new chapter in the book of my life. I had fallen from Kilimanjaro and no one could catch me. But I did not care because I was, for one, ensnared by the detail of his lips.

This is not a real story in terms of chapters and paragraphs. Then again it’s not a poem of lines and stanzas. I’d rather call it a testament to who I would later become in the face of one who dared to paint me.

It’s been two years since the bullets tore at the flesh of the one that stirred the oceans inside me.

It’s been two years since I mourned. It’s been two years and I’m still mourning the one who ushered me onto the path of my transition.

This is a single story but I urge you not to buy into this as definitive of my change.

Written by NEL