And we still cook....

Any moment, preparing this meal,
we could be gassed thirty thousand
feet in the air, soon
to fall out poisonous on leaf,
frond, and fur. Everything
in sight would cease.
And still we cook,
putting a thousand cherished
dreams on the table, to nourish
and reassure those close and dear.
In this act of cooking, I bid farewell.
Always I insist you alone were to blame.
this last instant my eyes open
and I regard you with all
the tenderness and forgiveness
I withheld for so long.
With no-future
we have nothing
to fight about.
May all beings be happy, healthy, free
from suffering.

from the Tassajara Cookbook by Edward Espe Brown