Caren Krutsinger | + Follow Poet |
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Communal Stew

We were from all directions, most had brought a mother
Tribes of all colors, our languages were odd to each other
By motioning to a giant pot, we figured out what to do.
We each dumped our offering into the stew.
Some brought wisdom along with carrots and potatoes.
One brought sarcasm, thrown in with beef and tomatoes.
We did not speak a common language, but drew pictures on cave wall.
We danced around the bonfire, and laughed at nothing at all.
Smiling and nodding was our main way to communicate,
As we greeted other tribes; our spirituality felt quite great.
We had never had such a feast, this stew did so much good.
It had unity, hope and love, all the things a great stew should.
I watched greens in the way of celery get stirred into this warm stew.
We were feeling a unity uncommon under this September sky of blue.
The children were using rocks to carve their daddy’s feats on the wall.
We cuddled with our kin and slept very well that day last fall.
The seasonings, the spices, the warm feelings in our tummies!
We enjoyed each other’s company, for none of us were dummies.
The bread we had was unique; I had never tasted anything that rich.
It was made from a powerful wheat that grew along the country ditch.
It tasted rather sweet, as we dipped it in and out of our soup.
I never forgot this evening, a night we all began to regroup.

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