Into a white plastic bowl drop tears
diluting still further the lentil soup.
An old man feeds his dead grandchild.
Always red lentils absent of celery
a smidgeon of onion or re-used carrot.
Then a daughter shakes her dead father.
Garlic, ginger and cumin are missing,
lemon juice might have brought brightness.
A husband embraces his dead wife.
If only a bay leaf were adding heartiness
with chicken soup for a liquid base.
A soldier steps over the dead and recovers
the bowl for the next mealtime at four.
Parsley, cilantro, potato and a hint of rice
could have brought a muscular flavour.
He exchanges his helmet for the salty bowl
letting the broth wet his head and cheeks.
His self anointment no longer for grace
but relief from the burning heat of war.
The ghost of the grandchild is laughing.
 
 
Alan Price’s most recent poetry collections are: Wardrobe Blues for a Japanese Lady (The High Window Press, 2018), Restless Voices (Caparison, 2020), and The Cinephile Poems (The High Window Press, 2023). He can be contacted at alanprice69.wordpress.com. 

Poetry submissions to thursdaypoems@gmail.com.