Cradle

I want to hold a little hand,
To kiss those tender, waiting lips,
To feel a tiny heartbeat softly
Against my chest through sleepless nights.

I want to breathe that newborn scent,
To hear those hungry midnight cries,
To wake beneath a fading moon
And watch my baby open its eyes.

I dream of tiny fingers wrapped
So warmly, tightly into mine,
Of little shoes beside the door,
And little clothes upon the line.

I dream of cradles gently swaying,
Of lullabies beneath the light,
Of a quiet home made restless
By childish laughter day and night.

I want those little muddy feet
To race across my courtyard floor,
To fall, to laugh, to rise again,
And come running through my door.

I want those hands stained deep with earth,
Those fingers pulling leaves and flowers,
A little face turned sulking when
I scold its mischief by the hour.

I want the clothes pulled from the line,
The vessels dragged down from the shelf,
The cupboards opened one by one-
A little storm all by itself.

I want those small hands on my face,
Trying to silence every “No,”
While laughter bubbles through the tears
I pretend so carefully to show.

I want the broken cups and plates,
The fingerprints upon the wall,
The sudden crash from down the hall-
And knowing my little one did it all.

I want the scraped knees, fevered nights,
The first small steps, the birthday smiles,
The sleepless care that asks for all
My heart, my strength, my years, my life.

I want to hear my name called out
By lips still learning how to speak,
A little voice searching for me
Whenever the world feels dark or bleak.

I do not want a perfect child,
Nor a perfect life of ease;
I want the ordinary miracle
Of knowing I am someone’s peace.

I want to be the place they run
When frightened, lonely, hurt, or cold;
To be the arms that gather them
And never ask what they have done.

I have carried love so large
For someone I have never known;
I have made a home within my heart
For footsteps that have never come.

I have loved a face I have not seen,
A voice I have never heard;
I have whispered countless lullabies
To a child made only of dreams.

I have held children in my dreams
And woken with empty arms;
Yet somehow, in the quiet hours,
Their imagined laughter keeps me warm.

I envied mothers passing by,
Not for their happiness or joy,
But for the little world they held-
The little world I could not hold.

I smiled when someone showed their child,
Then quietly turned my eyes away;
For some smiles hide a thousand tears
That words are frightened to betray.

I have cried at tiny shoes in shops,
At cradles waiting behind glass,
While children's laughter drifting by
Made every hidden longing last.

I have no photograph to keep,
No little handprint on my wall;
Yet I carry memories of moments
That never happened at all.

I have mourned a life I never held
While loving one I still believe;
For the heart can grieve what never came
And still refuse to stop believing.

I have wept beneath the silent sky,
Where no one heard my aching plea;
I whispered into the endless night,
“Why give me love I cannot hold?”

I prayed until my voice grew weak,
With trembling hands held tight in prayer;
I asked for neither wealth nor fame-
Just one small soul to call me “Amma.”

O Mother Nature, hear my plea,
You fill the nests beneath the trees;
You give each living thing its young-
Why must my doorway wait in peace?

Why leave my lullaby unsung,
My cradle still, my doorway bare?
Why place such mothering love in me
And give it no small life to share?

If motherhood must come with pain,
Then let each tear belong to me;
If I must walk through fire for it,
I will walk through willingly.

Let me feel one little movement,
A flutter beneath my waiting skin;
Let me place my trembling hand
Upon the life I long to hold within.

I dream of hearing that first heartbeat,
Of tears becoming tears of joy,
Of holding my child against my chest
And knowing every prayer was heard.

I dream of kissing a little brow,
Of blessing the child I waited for,
Of finding in that tiny face
The answer I had begged heaven for.

Sometimes I place my hand upon
The place where life was meant to grow,
Close my eyes and feel tiny kicks-
Then wake to silence I already know.

Some wounds have learned to hide their names;
I rarely speak of what I miss.
Yet every cradle, shoe, and child's laugh
Still leaves a tenderness like this.

Still, I have not stopped believing,
Though some days hope itself feels weak;
I leave a little light aglow
For the one I have yet to meet.

Perhaps an angel knows my tears,
Perhaps my prayers have crossed the sky;
Perhaps the child I dream about
Is somewhere waiting, as am I.

I have waited through changing seasons,
Through years that quietly passed;
Still, some dreams refuse to disappear-
They only learn to breathe more softly.

I fear the silence of old age,
The empty chair, the closing door;
But more than loneliness, I fear
Never knowing what a child is for.

When my hair has turned to silver
And these tired hands grow weak,
I wish for someone beside me
To take my hand and softly speak,

“Amma, don't be frightened now.
I'm here. You are not alone.”
Perhaps that single word would heal
The years my heart has carried home.

So I keep one place beside my heart
For the soul I have yet to meet,
One quiet corner of my home
For little footsteps, soft and sweet.

And if one day a little hand
Should reach for mine without a fear,
I will hold that child against my heart
And whisper, “Amma, I am here.”

I will remember every tear,
Every prayer whispered through the night,
Every tiny dream I guarded
When hope was barely more than light.

For my arms may have waited empty,
But my heart was never without love;
I carried motherhood within me
Long before my child arrived.

Perhaps motherhood begins like this-
Before a face, before a name;
Sometimes love arrives before its time
And quietly becomes a flame.

I will not count the years I lost,
Nor ask why I was made to wait;
I will simply bless that little life
And call the waiting worth its weight.

For all the love I carried silently,
All the tears no one could see,
Will finally have a little home-
Two small arms reaching back to me.

And if that day should ever come,
I will ask the heavens nothing more;
Only to hold my child a little longer
And thank God for the love I waited for.