Welcome back to the Daily Poem here on the Close Reeds Podcast Network. I'm David Kern.

Today's poem is by an American poet named Joy Harjo. She is a poet, musician, and author who was born in 1951,

and she is the first Native American United States Poet Laureate.

Some of her collections include an American Sunrise, which came out in 2019,

conflict resolution for holy beings from 2015, Crazy Brave from 2012,

and How We Became Human, New and Selected Po human, new and selected poems,

1975 to 2002, which came out in 2004.

The poem that I'm gonna read today is called,

Perhaps The World Ends Here, which has a very ominous title,

goes like this.

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. We call 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. If you look at the Wikipedia entry for Joy Harjo's life,

...