In honor of my mother I write to you an ode,
Something to relate to, no matter what is told.
Once so close and now so far, we live in different lands.
I long to see her once again and hold onto her hands.
When I was just a little girl, I watched my mum with awe.
I sat and stared and longed to be the woman that I saw.
A beauty in, a beauty out, a glowing trail of light,
Surrounded her most everywhere. She truly was a sight.
I longed to be my mother, and now I am my own.
I learned to be a woman from all that she had shown.
As time has come and time has gone with distance in between,
The hands of time have made a mark that surely can be seen.
A small and frail beauty now inside a body of age,
Parts of our dear story are each on a different page.
A glowing light surrounds her still, as she moves and walks.
That in itself is such a gift—we heard the doctors talk.
As we walk along this trail apart, I wish we were together,
Especially since I know my mother won’t be here forever.
I write to you this ode for her that’s made for no one other
Because it’s such an Honor to have her for my mother.
By daughter Charlotte, in Honor of her mother, Lucia Mann, author of “Rented Silence” and a passionate anti-slavery advocate.