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Is There a Poem in Me?

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I like to greet my day with coffee.

Water to chase it.

Sometimes I do a little stretching,

reaching from within for the

openness to the day.

Whatever it brings,

it brings.

The aim is to greet it all with the ease of presence.

After the cup of blackness is poured,

I open to the light.

No need for cream.

The lightness comes from within as

Inspiration visits me…

The printed word, cat in my lap, the occasional video

provide the outward nourishment and fuel.

I save the podcasts for the workout which is coming later.

If I am not rushing too much,

I sense a warm energy brewing

within my heart.

Percolating.

Up bubbles the question:

“Is there a poem in me today?”

The question arrives like a lovely perfumed spring breeze.

Usually sensing the invitation means

there is.

I become like a kid who has discovered a secret candy stash.

It is such a sweet discovery,

to be granted the words,

the package of a poem.

When this gift is received, all I can do is

offer myself to the empty page.

I am pulled by the need for expression.

But I don’t write immediately…

I pause and listen first.

A window opens and I feel the blessing of expansion.

The words start dropping onto the page.

As they drop down, I rise up.

Copyright@cynthiacadystanton.com

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“A TIME OF WINTERING” by Cynthia Cady Stanton

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Though the weather outside

is not wintery this season,

my soul has been in hibernation mode.

It is as if I am blanketed by a soft new snow.

I have become surprisingly quiet.

Hidden under its covering.

Having seasoned many winters by now,

I know that there is something germinating within.

I have been directed by the Mystery of it all

to be still.

It is the kind of stillness one sees

in the eyes of a startled deer in the dark

but without the panic.

I am quiet, but not afraid 

for I know that a quieting pause is a good thing -

it creates fertile ground for the soul.

It provides a chance to listen deeply

to what lies beneath.

So, though there is no winter happening outside,

there is wintering in my heart this year.

The chill of all the grief I have been hauling around

has settled into my bones

producing an ache which calls for attention.

So as I await the spring thaw

that I trust in completely,

all I can do is hold these losses tenderly 

warming them up with love and acceptance.

I get quiet so I can hear them speak.

They have so much to say.

Its their wisdom which will fertilize the new growth

which is surely on the way.

Copyright © 2023 Cynthia Cady Stanton
All Rights Reserved
In Need of Water
Poem · Poetry

In Need of Water

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Two days ago the sun was shining so

I bought myself some sunflowers.

Yesterday it rained

so I allowed the tears to form and flow.

Today I rise in darkness

hoping for the light to show up.

Every day gives me the chance

to use what is given.

When the drain of routine threatens to pull me down,

it helps to look around,

to check the weather of what is actually here.

The sunflowers need water so I help them –

in the helping, I notice am refreshed, too.

Leaning now with the flowers

toward the light,

I understand again the lift of kindness

and the necessity of attention to

the life that is given.

Copyright@Cynthia Cady Stanton, March 2023

Welcome Mat
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Welcome Mat

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As we anticipate sweet hugs

blessed by smiles and bright eyes,

please know that

we are ready for you.

The welcome mat is straightened, and vacuumed –

all debris has been shaken out, set free.

The pillows and towels are washed and fluffed.

Beds are supplied with soft blankets and clean sheets

so you can rest.

The pantry is stuffed

like you soon will be

to satisfy your longing

in body and soul.

This heart is expectant, light –

free of any pain or stress.

There is only love and gratitude for

this coming togetherness.

Everything else can be put to the side.

This moment is worthy of full attention and care.

May this candle that I light

be the beacon you need

to find your way to our embrace.

May the comfort of this time of gathering

soothe any separation that has lingered.

Welcome to our home.

Cynthia Cady Stanton, Thanksgiving 2022

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Vote for Author/Publication of the Month at Spillwords.com

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Spillwords.com Voting Page, where Spillwords Press Members can submit their vote for Author of the Month and Publication of the Month.
— Read on spillwords.com/vote/

Hi Followers!

I recently published a poem on Spillwords and it was nominated for publication of the month. I think you will like the poem: “Over It.” Would you please support my writing by voting for my poem? Thank you! I am so honored to be nominated!

Cynthia Stanton

The Places Where I Recognize Myself
Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

The Places Where I Recognize Myself

becomingandbeholding2 Comments

There are moments when

I catch glimpses myself –

where I picture the kind of woman

I am becoming though

she sometimes feels far away.

I will be in a yoga class and

feel in my body a sense of home on the mat.

“Yes, here,” will be whispered into my heart.

I will stay even if uncomfortable.

I may be holding the hand of another

while they are dying and

listening to their softening voice

while witnessing their growing transparency.

I offer my humanity and breath while I take them in.

I stay.

Yes, here.

Once I was at the beach walking.

The sea spoke to me.

“You belong. Come here often. No need to call ahead.”

I found my home in the world

while listening to the music of the surf.

Now I make time for my toes to be cradled by sand.

My heart, soothed by sea songs 

in the tempo of wholeness and belonging.

I might be peeling carrots and

learning to cook tofu.

I have learned the value of green things.

“This is how to nourish. Eat these. Set this table.”

My body thanks me.

In the neighborhood, I walk 

in the early morning by myself,

saying hello to the trees and bunnies.

It is an active solitude 

where I converse with God. 

Seeking guidance for my many steps,

I maintain my strength of body.

This is how I move forward into a new day.

Yes, this is me.

Then the words…

They call to me.

We are friends most of the time.

Metaphors and beauty, insights –

beckon me to the page.

Another tether to my soul formed.

Writing is an intimate action which

enables me, lifts me, soothes me.

Inspiration has become a cherished friend.

Absolutely. This is me.

I am acquainted with grief and pain.

My heart has been broken many times.

My body has failed me.

I have endured,

grown.

My wounded places have

transformed into fertile places.

I cultivate this inner garden of earned wisdom

by extending myself to others who similarly suffer,

trip, and find themselves on holy ground.

Yes. Me.

And finally, I can envision her…

a graceful, beautiful and wise woman

with silky silver hair and a sparkle in her eyes.

She is wrinkled in some places –

Soft in others.

This soul has a glow about her 

which lights up a room with love and grace.

She is my north star.

Each day I make my way to her.

Moment by moment she is created

through my open present heart

and daily choices.

I allow her to emerge.

Copyright@Cynthia Cady Stanton, July 2022

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A Proper Sorting and Tossing
Poem · Poetry

A Proper Sorting and Tossing

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I take it in,

all the goodness

I can wrap myself around.

I take it in,

and I hold it dear.

I let it crowd and smother

the junk that remains 

from all past hurts and loss.

I push these out and out.

There is no time for clinging to old hurts.

There is only room

for the good things.

So I sweep and dust,

sort and toss.

I keep a tidy home

in this heart of mine.

No matter the weather outside,

despite all storms and struggle

which rattle the windows,

no matter any darkness looming,

nothing is glued to me

but that which nurtures and lightens.

Whatever is not worth keeping

passes through me

as if through a window.

Of course I see it as it passes…

I do notice the unpleasant winds

and the damage they can produce –

but I don’t let them blow me over.

There is plenty else to own,

to cherish,

to foster.

These things are knit to the bone

so I can remain steady on my feet.

Growing older grants this 

wisdom of discernment.

I finally know

how to welcome the light that shows up –

even if it is just a flicker.

This is what I take in and cradle with tenderness.

This is how I shine from within

and build resilience.

Copyright@Cynthia Cady Stanton, June 2022

Examine everything carefully; hold fast to that which is good.

1 Thessalonians 5: 21

I realize there’s something incredibly honest about trees in winter, how they’re experts at letting things go.

Jeffrey McDaniel
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On The Wing of The Breath
Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

On The Wing of The Breath

becomingandbeholding3 Comments

Create some wind.

No matter what swirls around you,

add some air to it.

Whether it is a sigh 

or a deep gulp,

get it going.

Don’t get caught in the holding of your inner breezes.

This only creates pain…

Life is born in and through us

and it is only on the wing of our precious breath

that we can unfold and float

among the mountains and valleys.

This is what breathing is –

working with life.

And working with life,

is why we are here.

Copyright@Cynthia Cady Stanton, April 2022