A Mother’s Yawn
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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.
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