Cradle of Caution
I never wished to cradle or to hold,
The weight of futures woven, tales untold.
Not in my hands the seeds of life to sow,
For years have whispered what I fear to know.
My mind, a garden growing walls of doubt,
Where instincts fade and reasons spiral out.
A child’s cry echoes, but my heart feels still,
As caution roots, entwines, and bends my will.
I’d rather nurture feathered wings that soar,
Than feel my spirit break upon the floor.
Brooding minds don’t always birth the light,
Some souls aren’t called to mother through the night.
I’d beat myself for choices made too late,
For second-guessing what might seal a fate.
Perhaps, as days dissolve and thoughts digress,
The answer lies in letting silence bless.
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About this Poem
Cradle of Caution explores the quiet tension between expectation and truth, the pull of societal roles and the inner voice that resists. It reflects on the weight of motherhood not chosen and futures not pursued, where doubt is both burden and boundary. The poem offers a space for quiet acceptance, for recognising that not every story includes cradles and that silence, too, can be a blessing.
