You arrive as whispers
calling sweetly in my ear,
causing me to pause and ponder –
leading me forward.
It is like the dawning of hunger
when, no matter what I am doing,
I can think of nothing else.
The urgency must be addressed.
Words must be shaped,
voiced –
labored over and delivered.
Inspiration has called to me.
Each time she visits,
I come alive a little more.
I am born
again and again –
in a blanket of words.
Why me?
I sometimes wonder…
but I open to her, anyway –
and learn to surrender again
to her message
and to what is real.
The whole dance we do
creates a hunger
that builds.
I want more.
In the meantime,
I live the poems I have.
I hold them close to me –
with pregnant anticipation,
I wait for the others.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
Becoming and Beholding 