empty cradles

I carry you like a phantom limb,

A weight that no one else can see.

The world says I’m not a mother,

But my body disagrees.

You were here in the quiet places,

Written deep beneath my skin.

But love can live without a heartbeat,

And grief can feel like kin.

They only count what they can hold,

But I count the months, the dreams, the soul.

I’m a mother with no cradle,

With lullabies that fade to air.

I’m the keeper of your shadow,

In a world that doesn’t care.

Half the time I feel your presence,

Half the time I’m hollowed through —

I’m a mother, and I’m nothing,

But I’m still in love with you.

I’ve learned to smile at strangers’ questions,

Learned to nod when they assume.

They don’t see the second heartbeat

That once lived inside this womb.

I walk between two different worlds —

One where you’re gone, one where you stay.

And I don’t know which is heavier,

The loss or the love that stays.

They only name the ones who breathe,

But you’re the ghost I’ll never leave.

I’m a mother with no cradle,

With lullabies that fade to air.

I’m the keeper of your shadow,

In a world that doesn’t care.

Half the time I feel your presence,

Half the time I’m hollowed through —

I’m a mother, and I’m nothing,

But I’m still in love with you.

And maybe in some other time,

You grew into the life I dreamed.

But here, you’re just the space between

The woman I was

And the one I’ve become.

I’m a mother with no cradle,

With arms that never learned to rest.

I’m the prayer without an answer,

I’m the love without the test.

Half the world will never know me,

Half will never see the truth —

I’m a mother, and I’m nothing,

But I’m still in love with you.