Her Churning Mind

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

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