The Voice of Food

Another bite swallows the words from my mouth. Silence was a good sign, that salivary glands instead of voice boxes filling the space. I don't know what food has to say back, but smack smack swish and curl.

What of the crying last words of our beloved vegatables, as they enter the end of their life cycle, stopping only when they reach the groud again. And soon, new growth takes form and life is continued. If my purpose was to feed souls, I would become the nutrient and the action would perpetuate my life through another being.

There is death to the world every day and because of that we are allowed to change and find the voice that feeds. I may start talking to my food. The journey was long and refrigerated, flash frozen and baked along the way, so I pay omage to the gift that it does bring.

All the screaming local produce, telling us to please be near and be here. The driving trucks and commuters pass by as the vegatables trip to your plate took longer than your last vacation. Good thing that they are best served cold. Pick what, where and eat it? Pick it up at the farm where the same bees that buzz in your face are pollenating the crops in your neighbors back yard.

The voice of food is calling to you to be rooted in your surroundings, and understand that this will be how we support each other. I say safe travels to you, the cargo will soon become your body.