Soul Food

Amy Martin

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    I pray to a big black woman
    With kind eyes and a wise smile
    She says, "Honey, I'm gonna beat your butt
    If you don't grow up and stop thinking like a child."

    But me I just can't stop askin'
    If I'm good enough, if I'm worthy of love
    She just puts her hands on her big ol' hips and says,
    "Well girl, what do you think?"

    She's giving me a pot of greens, spicy wings
    Home-cooked soul food
    She gives me tough love, the real stuff
    God's touch, soul food

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    But I say, can't you see I'm starving
    Living on the same old pain, day after day
    She says, well, I'm sorry, darling
    But you can't leave the table 'till you finish the plate

    I've cooked up a loving helping
    Of everything you truly need
    But it's up to you to learn the lessons
    Call 'em curses or blessings, but you still gotta eat

    Then she pulls me to her bosom
    She kisses my head, and strokes my hair
    She says, "Child, I would love to fix it for you
    But we both know, it just wouldn't hold."

    "But girl, the world is waiting
    For you to step up and show your stuff.
    I'm counting on an invitation
    On the day you decide to serve me up…"

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