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 the last sweet bite.
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Hello Friends,
Well, that's it: the last sweet bite of this year's poetry month, brought to you from Joy Harjo's collection The Woman Who Fell From the Sky (1994).
It's been quite a month! You have read poems from the 1600s, 1700s, 1800s, 1900s, and 2000s. You have read poems by African American, Arab American, Asian American, Native American, Latin@, white, and gay, lesbian, and queer poets. You have read couplets, tercets, quatrains, spoken word, a sonnet, a prose poem, a villanelle, a pantoum, and more!
On the blog, I've included a handy re-cap of the month, which you can use to revisit a favorite poem from the month, or find the title of a collection to read more.
Thank you for spending this month with me and hopefully embracing a little bit of poetry!
Love,
Ellen