The cares of many has she borne these days.
The shoulder slopes, the back is sore and bent;
Her sleepless mind is burning, and it weighs
The possibilities,
And all they represent
The gifts that she has left to give are few;
Just useless wheels upon a broken road –
Her churning mind keeps turning back to you,
To lighten or to share
Your ever-crushing load
And yet she’ll sing a song there in the night,
A mother’s song of love that never dies;
To bring a darkened flower to the light,
And give birth to a truth
From out of all those lies
To share is human:
Words of empathy, the melody a soothing lullaby. Magnificent.