Mary Meriam’s poem Survivor’s Prayer appeared here in November 2014.

The Soup of Us
By Mary Meriam

Couldn’t I stir the pot of you
To make the soup of us?
Of course I could, you say
Handing back the ladle

To make the soup of us
The farmers drop their seeds
Handing back the ladle
Till dirt be fruits of toil

The farmers drop their seeds
The sun unscrews her jar
Till dirt be fruits of toil
The wheat or why of rain

The sun unscrews her jar
The moon slips in the rows
The wheat or why of rain
O my sweet potato

The moon slips in the rows
I turn the burner higher
O my sweet potato
I’m chopping up a flavor

I turn the burner higher
Of course I could, you say
I’m chopping up a flavor
I stir the pot of you