Our Food, Our Right: My Birthday Surprise

In an unexpected turn of events, I received a book this week that I had (I thought) never even heard of. This book has a poem I wrote published in it.

Most curious.

I think what happened is that about a year and a half ago, I saw a call-out for food-related artwork and poetry on a farmer blog somewhere, so I sent them a poem and then forgot about it until now.

The book itself is pretty cool. The title is Our Food, Our Right: Recipes for Food Justice, with a forward was written by Raj Patel, the author of Stuffed and Starved. Published by Community Alliance for Global Justice, a Seattle-based organization, it includes essays about a variety of food and community topics: food sovereignty, race and gender in farming, organizations in the Pacific Northwest that are creating "positive solutions," Seattle-area farmer profiles, global issues concerning food justice, and a nice little collection of recipes. It certainly dovetails quite nicely with what I'm learning this semester in my Food Systems and Food Access courses.

At any rate, it was certainly a nice little belated birthday surprise.

And for those who are curious, here is the poem:

The Farm Job

Why are you going to Virginia?

asked my grandfather.

I can find a farm for you to work on here in Indiana.

Why are you working on a farm?

That was the unasked question.

I didn't know how to answer him,

but just as I took my college education for granted,

never did he question the heft of a shovel,

or the sun on the back of his neck.

Her First Calf

Her First Calf
Wendell Berry


Her fate seizes her and brings her
down. She is heavy with it. It
wrings her. The great weight
is heaved out of her. It eases.
She moves into what she has become,
sure in her fate now
as a fish free in the current.
She turns to the calf who has broken
out of the womb's water and its veil.
He breathes. She licks his wet hair.
He gathers his legs under him
and rises. He stands, and his legs
wobble. After the months
of his pursuit of her, now
they meet face to face.
From the beginnings of the world
his arrival and her welcome
have been prepared. They have always
known each other.

Hoeing

I don't know about you guys, but I really like poetry, and I usually read a poem or two before I go to bed. The other night, this poem popped up in my current anthology (Good Poems, compiled by Garrison Keillor), and I thought it was too appropriate not to share here.

Hoeing

John Updike

I sometimes fear the younger generation will be deprived

   of the pleasures of hoeing;

   there is no knowing

how many souls have been formed by this simple exercise.

The dry earth like a great scab breaks, revealing

   moist-dark loam -

   the pea-root's home,

a fertile wound perpetually healing.

How neatly the green weeds go under!

   The blade chops the earth new.

   Ignorant the wise boy who

has never performed this simple, stupid and useful wonder.