Potatoes

Potatoes
Reportedly Idaho’s best friend.  
Not at home with fruit but not quite a veggie 

a cornucopia of interpretations when you say

Potatoes…well what do you mean?   There’s couch ones and sacked ones, toys that bear their lumpy face - are they all just the same?

Don’t bite into plastic when you count them that way.  

Oh and isn’t that just like you and me,

aliens and strangers in a world that will never be home 

Ambassadors of light that shines 

on a face not our own

Trying hard not to confuse you

with this dirty skin…these distractions 

of how I’ve lived and where I’ve been.  

Mistaken for Jesus, wouldn’t be a bad place to be - if only you can get past the raw potato in me.  

Potatoes

Unassuming lumps of starch in the dirt 

Seems It takes some digging to discover their worth

But potatoes, what a treasure if you put in the work

Pressed and sliced, fried, and baked all the way through, Mashed and cooked and put in a stew

Under the knife and the heat they’re refined

Once they’ve gone through that fire

They shine….

Oh isn’t it just like you - to take something dirty and make it brand new.  isn’t it just like you to wash away the grime to find the value hidden within.  What a thing for you to see under the skin

 taking the beaten and broken and building in life

using the pressure to set the course right

A masterful creation, wouldn’t be a bad place to be, when you started with just the raw potato in me.  

Life lessons from potatoes?

Could seem half baked at a glance 

But sometimes even stones speak if given a chance.