At Thanksgiving, we gather at the dinner table and celebrate new beginnings: new babies, new marriages, new jobs, new friends. We remember things that are gone from this plane of existence: loved ones lost prematurely, grandparents lost to age, husbands and wives lost to the bitterness of divorce.
Today I read a poem by Joy Harjo, celebrating the glue that holds so many of us together, the social rites of the kitchen table.
Click the link and enjoy! Perhaps the World Ends Here, by Joy Harjo
For more information: Joy Hargo bio from poets.org