A Mother’s Yawn

Mother and Her Children by Johann Bernhard de Hoog (1866-1943)

A mother yawns,

And in that yawn 

She finds her voice,

Our means to carry on.

The carpenter has his table,

The doctor his oath.

The mother has nothing

Save a yawn and these both.

For every sharp mind was honed

On some woman’s smooth knee,

Every calloused hand an extension

Of a tender touch from she.

Nations lean on her yawn,

Civilizations fall without it,

And fools everywhere

Hand her scrubs and a mallet.

Arise, O’ Mother!

Pray do not sleep.

Your children need you,

Our future you keep.

Dedication: To my yawning mother.