Lately, I have sought to cope with the brokenness in our world by turning to the wisdom of my elders. My grandmother’s worn Bible sits on my bookshelf. My grandfather’s wool sweater hangs in my closet. And the poems and books of elders who I’ve never met, but who have helped me better understand myself and the world, are scattered around my home. One of these elders is Joy Harjo, a poet of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation and the 23rd U.S. Poet Laureate. In honor of Indigenous Peoples’ Day, I invite you to join me in falling into her words. You can listen to her poem here.
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 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.
Lately I find myself not making time for my own kitchen table. I eat on the go (even though I have nowhere to go.) I eat at my laptop. I eat on my couch. I eat in a rush right before my next Zoom meeting. In the midst of midterms, as Zoom threatens to overtake our calendars, how might we learn from Joy Harjo and appreciate the power of our kitchen tables?