A Tribute to Anna Marie Henderson

Anna M Henderson

Today I am almost 50 years old. And I fully understand all my mother sacrificed to take care of my brother, Marcus, my sister, Carman, and me. I feel in my heart all the love that she had for us and the love I have for her. Everything my mother has said to me has returned to me over the years. Lessons that she has taught me. I lost some of those lessons to my young man-child's arrogance. Those long-ago lessons, half-remembered, are now foundational to my own wisdom.

My mother loved the great poet Gwendolyn Brooks. Mama's favorite quote from Ms. Brooks was, "When handed lemons, make lemonade."I hadn't known what it meant when I was young. But looking back, I can see what my mother was telling me. When life gives you difficult challenges and circumstances, don't let the pain of them dictate who and what you are. When life hands you something difficult, make it become something sweet and satisfying. Change sour lemons into sweet lemonade. Her words came to me when I needed them the most. They pushed me to understand the deeper meaning and find a way to keep pressing on and not complain about my situation.

Mama said when someone gives you lemons, just smile and always make lemonade. As I sit here almost a year after my mother's death. I am thinking about something to celebrate her life. Mama’s voice whispers through my head. It echoed through me and spoke to me. I wrote the poem “Echoes” as to tribute to my mother's wisdom and enduring strength.

Echoes

Echoes of love and wisdom I often here

My mother's strength softly whispers in my ear

Echoes of women hood

Regal, shining so bright

Echoes of my Queen Mother radiating her own light

Echoes of wisdom on my mother's lips

I was too young to understand that it was just a gentle kiss

Echoes of love

Echoes of fear

Arrogance from my manhood wouldn’t let me hear

Echoes of heartache I still hold close

As mourn the loss of my one true “SHERO.”

Echoes from my mother’s womb

Heartbeats held so dear

My life began with my mother’s first tears

Echoes of footsteps taken in the past

Echoes of manhood looking at my mother

Behind prison glass

Echoes of motherhood gentle, near

And so dear

Echoes of my lost mother

I will always hear

Family