Poetry list
Bread
How simple seems the joy of bread
The mill, the wheat, by which we’re fed
With crust and dough so sweet.
Yet complex lives and shady ways
Are part and process of this maze
When grain is ground to eat.
The loaf, the roll, are baked by power
For food makes money hour by hour
For profit and for gain.
Oppressive work and selfish cheats
Are kneaded, sent to ovens’ heats
Which bake each ear of grain.
The greed of politics and trade
Are baked into each loaf that’s made,
Along with love and skill.
We eat our pain, exploiters’ cost,
Our innocence is ever lost
In bakers’ grist to mill.
‘Tis this that’s brought to altar’s stone
And offered, broken, to atone
Through love’s one perfect life.
Along with grape, the sullied wine,
Our souls are fed by breath divine –
A meal that ends all strife.
© Neil Thompson 2023