The World Begins at the Kitchen Table

Featured photo by Madie Hamilton on Unsplash

Social work staff, Meg Webster, publishes in Maine Women Magazine  this month!  The piece is titled, The World Begins at the Kitchen Table.  The article weaves  portraits of two individuals as it follows the journey of a finely crafted 40″ cherry wood kitchen table from one home to another.   The table is donated by local craftsman Chris Becksvoort to Latré Sibi, a young woman who has recently arrived in Maine from Gabon.

Jenn McAdoo, Executive Director of local non profit Furniture Friends , helps make it all possible.  Jenn is also a participating member of UNE’s Social Work Community Advisory Committee.

The piece was largely inspired by Joy Harjo’s 1950 poem, Perhaps the World Ends Here.  The poem is embedded below.   The article will be out through the end of the month! Pick it up a magazine at a local store/coffee shop near you or…


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.