perhaps the world ends here

i havn't written here in forever. it's been a crazy few months. my dad passed away in august after a very long illness, in september i went back to school, and in november i moved! as for school i'm doing a certificate in food security through ryerson university which i am really enjoying. its all online though which is sort of weird, i wish i had a classroom to interact in. anywawy once exams are over i'll post some of the paper's i have written this semsester. they include one about a local rural community kitchen, escaping the global food system with the creation of foodsheds, and women and the industrial food system.

anyway the other day i came across this poem and thought it was really lovely.

Perhaps the World Ends Here
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 instrictions 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 ack together once again at this table.

This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.

Wars have begin and ended at this table. It is a place to hide
in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate a 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 remprse. We give thanks.

Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are
lauging and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.