De' Ol' Negro House

By Word Of Soul I Love You Mother

I Was Never, Worthy Of Your Love
By Jacqueline Amos
 

By word of soul I give to thee the greatest love, Thy eyes, you may see My feet, you may lead, I take the breath, for thee as life, travels on its journey, thy shall be freed. By word of soul, I sit before your feet, you have given, every thing, with nothing in return, freedom of pain an darkness, shall, pass through thy heart, by word of soul. You felt the pain, as I flow through your womb, through the rain, an storm came laughter, to your new born, I have put stripes upon your back, you continue to love me, with tears running down your cheeks, by word of soul, I love you mother, I was never worthy of your love.

The nights, The nights, you cried your self to sleep, wondering, where we would get our next meal to eat, by word of soul, I love you mother, soldier of the world. The tired bones where you rest, the moans for the love, to heal the hurt and stress, by the words of soul, I love you mother, the Goddess of God's love. Those old time religions, at Sunday's best, you walked with the wrap, around your head, I love you mother, and I was not worthy of your love. You were the mother and father, even when dad was there, You were the provider of love, and I was not worthy of your love, by word of soul, I was never worthy of your love.

The words of God, was your hope chest, never forsaken him, with the pain, which I brought, You worked the stalls, and mop the floors, and never complain, the un-worthy one's of your love, by word of soul, I love you mother, with all my heart.

 I kiss the wrinkles upon your hands, I kiss the blisters upon your feet, I place roses, where you rest in peace, by word of soul, I love you mother, you suffered as the lord, I am so sorry, I never gave you rose, while you were alive, I wipe the tears from my cheeks, Oh lord the gift of God, It is now to late, by the word of soul, I love you mother, I hope it's not to late. I was blessed, with the fruits from God's garden, an the milk of it's love. Oh the pain, the pain, the pain, I wear the curse, of my like of love.