Thankful for tears
as I chop onions.
Release,
I didn’t know I needed.
Raw bitterness
dumped
atop sweet
orange flesh.
Juice
flows past my firmest grip.
Gentleness,
mixed with curry spice.
Squash and pear.
present with sadness.
Stewed together
then blended smooth.
A prosses,
as the bubbles rise.
God met me here.
The soup is done.
©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef
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