THE WORLD BEGINS AT THE KITCHEN TABLE.
A poem by Joy Harjo
Dear Readers,
Just a short note to inform you that we are taking a brief hiatus this week, and look forward to being back next week to continue our October mycelial adventure together. In the meantime, we’d like to leave you with a poem by Joy Harjo. Thank you to the wonderful Jenny Glasgow for bringing ‘The world begins at the kitchen’ to our attention. What a wonderful portrayal of the human cycle of life — all at the kitchen table. We hope you and yours have a lovely Sunday.
Cúán & the Ómós Team.
THE WORLD BEGINS AT THE KITCHEN TABLE.
BY JOY HARJO
The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.
The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.
We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.
It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.
At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.
Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.
This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.
Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.
We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.
At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.
Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.