Joy Harjo’s Poetry—Something for Which to be Thankful

First published November 22, 2012 at http://www.hercircleezine.com/2012/11/22/joy-harjos-poetry-something-for-which-to-be-thankful/

KATE’S KITCHEN TABLE, IN DETAIL

There are so many things for which I feel thankful. The poetry of amazingly talented women writers is one of these. It was over eight years ago that I first read Joy Harjo’s PERHAPS THE WORLD ENDS HERE in a book about Thanksgiving and creating family rituals to celebrate. To me, Thanksgiving is about gathering people together, sustaining one another with love and sharing the good fortune we have of plentiful food, and a home open to family, friends and strangers alike in which we may share such bounty.

Another other thing for which I’m thankful is the kitchen table. Joy Harjo captures the essence of the table in her poem, PERHAPS THE WORLD ENDS HERE, which she has graciously allowed me to reprint herein. My kitchen table (pictured in detail) with the paint, glue, marker and indentations from my children growing, creating, learning and discovering at it fills me with gratitude. At one time, my husband and I considered refinishing the table once the children were grown. Now, we cherish the marks. They remind us of the stages of our children’s lives. We revere the table itself, and give thanks for its solid-footed presence, its offering as a place and space where we are nourished, fight, make memories, dream and…oh, let the poem say it much more eloquently:

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 THE 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 INSTRUCTION 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 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.

I want to specifically recognize Native Americans who do not necessarily view Thanksgiving in the same way as those whose ancestors were immigrants to this country. I do not wish to appropriate Joy Harjo’s poem and use it to gloss over the genocide of Native Americans and celebrate what many consider a specifically American holiday. Rather, outside of the historical context, may this day be one on which we feel sincere gratitude, especially for Native Americans who welcomed many of our ancestors, even though those ancestors eventually betrayed the generosity extended to them.

On this Thanksgiving of 2012, I wish you joy to sing at your own table, and hope your suffering and sorrows are few.

PERHAPS THE WORLD ENDS HERE was originally published in THE WOMAN WHO FELL FROM THE SKY, W.W. Norton, 1994.