18/07/2025
The Soup Pot of Grace..
Steel towers watched while we turned
earth’s humble gifts
into ladles of warmth —
carrots rubbed free of soil, potatoes peeled of yesterday,
vegetables surrendered into a single
simmering chorus.
Chef Jenny laughed like clinking cutlery;
Chef Beatrice’s team blessed the air with herb and heat.
Fire-engine sirens laced the streets outside, yet inside our station the only alarm was joy—
echoing between chopping boards and bread-sliced prayers.
We tasted salt and stories.
We stirred hope until it thickened.
We sent it out in bowls and sandwiches,
trusting that each mouthful would find the hunger
that had been calling it home.
No one went hungry—
not those who would eat,
and not those who served.
For in the steam rising from the soup pots
we felt the city’s heartbeat steady,
just long enough for grace to breathe through us all.
~ Something Blu
