Better Holler and Gardens

One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if possible, speak a few reasonable words. A day is lost if one has not laughed.

Friday, February 03, 2006

PERHAPS THE WORLD ENDS HERE POEM BY JOY HARJO

"There are hundreds of languages in the world,
but a smile speaks them all"





Perhaps the World Ends Here
from The Woman Who Fell From The Sky
(c) 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 teeth 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 here at the kitchen table,
while we are laughing and crying,
eating of the last sweet bite.





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