Poem ---- Centell Jackson

Purple Hull Peas

Dusty roads and crooked curves led us to this place

Surrounded by many gullies, mountains, and valleys

Crop dusters sprayed water upon these gems

And we healed from them, as we peeled them,

we blended, as we mended our kinship

Mother Louise would get a bushel or two,

from her fields of love that's huge,

or maybe from L.D. Hughes or Auntie Magnolia

She would require them, when she, we, had the desire for them,

for black eyed peas

We would peel until our fingers were purple,

signifying the love and affection between us

We would gather pots and pans, and spots on couches and floors,

I would always sit by the front door

Who could peel the most?

 Almost like fun competition

And I figure Mother Louise was fishing

for unity among brothers and sisters,

when she’d say we got to peel peas tonight,

 echoed from her kitchen

I speculate she’d find the time, and design a session,

 to peel, to reveal stories for laughter

She'd set it up to catch up

She did it for unity, for family

I never thought about it much then

 her craftiness, to capture, and catch us,

this family of 15 and more, between walls of 4, for 1 reason.

Peeling, feeling that oneness, that often escaped us

We would put them all in one big pot, symbolizing the coming together

She would orchestrate it well like Beethoven,

and when she put them on the oven to cook,

mmmmmmm!, you don't know what you're missing!

Her own special seasonings

 her own special reasoning

her own ingredients

She's special to me

I can't wait to peel another mess or two

of them purple hull peas.