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Germinating

The well has run dry –

or so it seems.

Life has been wordless

in this season.

There is something churning within

which stalls the poetry.

Whatever it is feels

essential and mysterious.

What I do know is that

I have no patience for simple

right now.

I cannot bear

any glossing over,

or easy finishes.

The necessary dredging

and stages must happen.

I seem to be germinating,

and it isn’t a comfortable process.

What is on the other side

of this hushed season?

It is hard to allow for change –

I don’t much like it.

I like my usual grooves 

which are predictable

and comfortable.

But I don’t get anywhere new

when I am in them.

I don’t live free.

Perhaps this is what

it feels like

to be tight in the shell,

or trapped under hardened ground,

heavy in its lack of nourishment.

I long to transcend to

a new place  –

a place where I have the freedom

to be me,

to speak the words

which bring the light with them.

Realizing what is true

and where wisdom resides,

I begin to see that

I am but a tiny green shoot

about to burst through.

It may feel a challenge

at the start,

but there is the promise

of a stunning bloom. 

I hold onto that

and am reassured.

Copyright@ Cynthia Cady Stanton, May 2021

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

And then the day can when the risk to remain tight in the buds more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

Anais Nin

3 thoughts on “Germinating

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