Life Poem – God’s Broth

God’s Broth is a life poem, reflecting on the question: who’s really in charge here? The seemingly random sequence of events may or may not be pre-destined. The weight of my input? God only knows….

God’s Broth

Upon  the wood-fired stove,
perched like a turtle in the sand
hatches my cauldron /
broth simmering
for now

Morcels of chewy meat
crunchy vegetables and flavoursome herbs
collide to carve a
broth bursting
at times

On any given day
the gas mark decrees
the tidal times of steam, bubbles, and
burnt bottom
at will

Who blends the broth's magic
or poison,
the sweetness, the sours,
the heat
every hour?

May I be my own witch
cook my own broth
add a dash of nutmeg and chilli,
pepper my soup with sugar
anytime I'm peckish?

Too many cooks don't spoil the broth
when prepping a mean feast
of juice and zest
essential and

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