Nature’s Kitchen

She seared the pan with juices born of struggle Flavoured it with flesh trimmed from her breast
Stirred the mix and waited till it bubbled
Then slowly added in all of the rest

A little bit of jealousy and temper     A smidgen of the time when words went wrong
Peppered it with points of view disparate
And, while it simmered, Mother sang the self-same song

Some differences to test the truth of loving   Let’s give them colour, creed and poverty
I’ll add a touch of sexual persuasion
Ugliness and beauty that some see

Throw in power and grace and favour Some grievances that keep the cauldron hot
Maybe just a little deviation
Bugger it, I’ll throw in the whole lot

She cackled and she laughed with mirth and struggled
This shouldn’t be so much fun, was what she thought
I ought to love them more than what I’m showing
I’d better put compassion in the pot

Bugger me, she thought, when elbow hit pan
Too much, too little, I may never know
Sod it, now it’s in, I’ll wait and wonder
Some virtual reality for show

I’ll dish it up and dine with them and challenge
From what I’ve seen they like that quite the best
Quizzes, feats of fortune with some bloodlust
My children seem to like being put to test

Oh shit, I nearly left out loving kindness
A mother ought to give that, even some
I’ve given it before and they rejected
But still, I think I should, I’m almost done

I’ll sit out here while pot’s on simmer
I’ll think about these children, ingrates all
Gave them all I had and were they thankful
Not nearly quite enough, and some, not quite at all

The sun set while the mother prayed some
Evil wasn’t part of recipe
But if that’s what they wanted for their dinner
She guessed she had to serve it before tea

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16 thoughts on “Nature’s Kitchen”

  1. highly creative description of the stew whose ingredients are us – if you could, would you just give the bottom a gentle scrape so I can get off the hot spot and hopefully work my way up to the top for a breath of air and a leisurely float

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Remember the old nursery rhyme “What are little boys made of?” This reminded me of that, but the grown-up version with all the complexity of perspective and having lived with choices and human imperfection. It’s lovely.

    Liked by 1 person

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