The Kitchen

It’s not a bad place, the kitchen,

Rather a realm of powerful significance. 

It’s the land whose rulers add

The spices of love, compassion, and justice

To everyday life. 

It’s a place where the blessings of life 

Stick to the bottom of pots and pans,

And grandmother’s brewed tea is sipped honestly.

The birthplace of pure poetic verse,

A resting place for your suffering hands and ours. 

It’s the land whose rulers

Are poets of the most glorious songs of justice.

It’s a place where difficulty creeps between your, my, our fingers

And bequeaths the aroma of love’s labor.

The kitchen is a realm of blessing and peace,

And its ruler does not, with a bitter tongue of violence,

Make a judgment of death to this vain existence.

The kitchen is not the land of cooking only.

It begins the border of the most primitive geography 

Between you and me.

It’s a place of the most glorious wonder of creation

Hosting the innovation of your mind, my mind, our minds. 

The kitchen is a vast land 

Swept daily, 

Rebuilding the joy of creating life. 

16 November 2014, Nantes 18:30