Mothers are as total as the sky;
Older than the earth, and more enduring.
They're rooted in our hearts like ancient trees,
Halfway down to seething lava seas;
Emblazoned on our sail, and on our mooring.
Returning home, we dwell within their sigh:
So maddening, so rich, so reassuring.
From the distance of our separation
I see the whole of which I was a part;
I see the way my temper tore your heart,
And then the love beneath the laceration
M is for the miracle of Being.
O is for its origin in love.
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