Three Generations of Soul Food

Grandaddy’s on the porch,
chewin’ tobacco in front of little cousin Eva,
talkin’ ‘bout old ways to work and old ways to make things and old ways to raise things.

Big Ma’s in the kitchen,
bakin’ remedies and fryin’ corncakes with the lard
from yesterday’s bacon.

Pa’s in the study,
sweatin’ hard-earned figures onto coffee-stained pages,
sweatin’ food into our bellies.

Mama’s in the garden
Tearin’ at ‘bama’s red soil,
So that tomorrow we can have some collards with our chops.

And I am listening,
To wet tobacco hit dry earth,
To hot grease sizzle in a 60-year-old cast iron pan,
To money put food on the table,
To the rip of root from soil,

And my spirit grows with it.


*This is my poetry. Please do not copy the text, reuse it or plagiarize. Thanks!