The day begins with a dagger in my heart
My mind is stolen
My Soul lost in the dawn of the dead dreams
I wake up fall asleep
relax tense
pain and try in my lifeless hope
everything seems wrong
I could keep falling in this darkenedstory
I could keep breaking within my trembling possibilities
behind these walls
I can smell sense touch the anger
like
soft dews of untouchable love
beneathe the cover
I can feel the lie
the lies
as I lie still
Still
And then I cook
It begins by opening the door to the fresh saturday market
the hustle and bustle of a small city
I walk gently to fresh eggs, pink salmon, dirty leeks
everything is so fine
so simple
I buy the care and the freshness asking to return to something new
Deep inside
I cook for myself
I cook to forget
I cook to remember
I cook to love
I cook without counting
everything is correct
everything is possible
everything is beautiful
I listen to the soft fizz of oil as heat builds
boiling water bubbles calmly and I can see the salt , white with power rise and melt into the volcano ive created within
I choose the largest of the extra largest eggs
it's smooth and round hld within my fingers...
my bruised cut and tired sore fingers
close by, I cut the salmon into little pieces, the leeks into spirals
the oil is hot, hot like fire
again that wonderful blissful hiss of cooking, changing
I watch as the leeks get curly and tender, the oil breaks, the smells collapse into my lungs
I season the salmon with a hint of salt
with a push of black and red pepper
then
I begin to collect
is it collecting my feelings?
my pain?
my hostility
my fever
the white plate sits empty waiting to be used
like im waiting to be used
i place the melted leeks on the bottom the plate
they make a green soft platter of memories on the base of this story
then the pieces of now firm salmon sit plumply as the story continues
finally I shell the egg
the soft hot white touched my hands and it is like playing
it moves like a song
for i have barely let it
as I place the soft boiled egg in the centre and cut through
the yellow oozes out of its heart
the colours
Green, Pink, White, Yellow are all free now
for the story is complete
or is it?
I open the fridge and take a piece of Irish bread Soda
I let it warm through, as its rough particles soften
then i take some butter and start letting it touch the bread
soon
the bread is warm and soft and becomes another part of the family I have created
As I sit down I feel like the most professional woman in the world
not for just having made this
but for having created a masterpiece from within me
made with all my intentions
all my emotions
all my tastes
my loves
my tears
my memories
this isnt just a plate of food
its a plate of life
my life
my world
my time
as my world enters my body I merge with the divinity of peace
everything is now right
the taste is correct
the feeling is good
the meaning I can understand
I keep indulging into this wide open door of pleasure i have given myself
for there is nothing wrong with it
there is nothing strange about it
except it is mine
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