Cooked Potatoes

Like muffled rain tiny snow flakes, frozen analogy of cherry blossom, fall in the middle of spring Frost dazzled the frogs in the midst of their amphibian embrace. Fantastic creatures in the depths of the pond with two heads and eight legs. Roses, ignoring the weather are filled with promises Periwinkle, Maiden Weed, Sorceress Violet, Blue Eyes, Blind Weed, Vincapervinca, embroiders with indigo the sumptuous white carpet. Under his iced cap the stone Buddha dreams of the Himalayas And with it all in spite of everything I, deprived of faith, get lost in origami of words.

...She said no She couldn’t make it, “Money a bit tight, it is quite impossible”, she left it at that. Why would I want to go out in a world of yielding knives and machetes in the Underground? The world’s unravelling. Every single day, from Monday through to Sunday a kid dying, flower wreaths proliferating on blood soaked city pavements, and mothers crying;   why should I go out? Cars mounting pavements and ramming crowds; a world where no one looks into another’s eye, but only over the shoulder. After the attack where a white van charged through a market one Saturday night, a summer night when people where just hanging out and ran them over, then three men jumped out of the back yielding serrated knives and proceeded to cut flesh, slash throats, pierce hearts, senselessly cutting the thread of young lives, she entrenched herself in her back garden amongst roses and ferns, robins and starlings; This little kitten has used up eight of its lives, she liked to say. But that even...

. “We all hold inside a tragedy that defines us, a rage like ‘raw potatoes’ “Raw potatoes?” “Yes, you know what Tich Nhat Hahn said about anger: that it is like raw potatoes, indigestible, so that you have to ‘cook’ it.  “It is a shame that it is never a joy that defines us, our life’s defined by sorrow, why? “Perhaps because sorrow is what makes us grow? So tell me, what event in your life defines you?