... which when set alone grows arms, long outstretched arms inviting you to sink into their warmth. Sink and warmth – the words suggest a yielding softness. Soft it is, even in its enunciation. Lips part and meet for a moment and the word is born.
I suspect its two syllables hold within them a brutal force that can trample all over you, even over that sacred space within you where you are just a being on this universe.
Hold back you cannot for long.
There’s an itch within you too that curls out unseen, and the next time you look at yourself you see that your arms are stretched out, just like the word Mom.