Soup

Noodle and Soup

Starving ribs pressed thin beneath dirty coats,

each step a question, each pause learned the hard way.

They walk like the world might change its mind again,

like kindness is something you earn by surviving.

Hunger taught their bones to speak first,

but their eyes still ask—soft, aching—

Could this be different?

Could this time, the hands be soft and the bowls be full?