#68 Perhaps the World Ends Here (Joy Harjo)

Me ha quedado resonando el verso de Piedad Bonnett, "una cocina puede ser el mundo". Y es que lo es, tantas veces. Quizá sea el lugar más importante de una casa. Y para hacer que la cocina sea un pequeño hogar en sí mismo, no puede faltar una mesa, la mesa de la cocina. Gonzalo Altozano ha captado algo esencial al llamar así a su podcast. En casa de mis padres no teníamos una mesa de la cocina, pero ahora me parece un elemento imprescindible. En mi casa de estos lares tenemos un "breakfast nook"—así lo llamamos—que es no otra cosa que una mesa en la cocina, donde prácticamente comienza el universo.

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PERHAPS THE WORLD ENDS HERE

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.