Putting Words Around the Unfolding
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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
Hello Followers!
Spillwords.com has published my most recent poem about a moment in which I embrace my aging body as is. Enjoy!
Peace to all hearts,
Cynthia
Spillwords.com presents: Over It, poetry written by Cynthia Cady Stanton, who describes herself as “an accidental poet.”
Source: Over It, poetry by Cynthia Cady Stanton at Spillwords.com
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
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
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
When I remember to take a breath,
to stop,
to get quiet,
it’s as if my eyes automatically open more.
I can see the details…
the robins digging for worms,
the leaves fluttering in the breeze,
the expression lines deepening
on the face of my beloved.
It is the quiet
that wakes me up.
With no noise to distract me,
I can also find the words.
Somehow the container of my heart
has permission to open,
spilling out with the cry of prayer
and the lyrics of grace.
I hear my own speech, and
in that listening,
I realize
I have become quiet enough
to be held by it all.
All this…
in the space of silence –
this place I call
my home.
Copyright@CynthiaCady Stanton.com
In the right light,
the morning greets me
with the kind of hope needed
to float joyfully into the day.
I start with a smile
lit from within.
In the right light,
my elderly cat appears like a
kitten resting after deep play.
As the rays of sunshine he bathes in
shimmer across his gray coat,
they seem to hide how frail
he really is.
In the right light,
the emerging silver threads
on my head
bring a sparkle to my deep blue eyes,
revealing the gift
of my earned evolution
and the power of being seen.
In the right light,
all life is art –
and all its shades,
all its colors, shapes, and textures,
all the broken and joined lines,
seem to form words –
the ones that matter.
They speak louder to me
these days.
In the right light,
the trail ahead appears
clear and illuminated
for the distance.
It’s never ending
but in the good way –
the way that comforts.
The invitation to proceed
feels safe and important.
In the right light,
the wounded places within
become fertile ground
which, when thoughtfully nurtured,
produce fresh verdant growth
that is quite beautiful.
Noticing this deepens
my breathing and presence
in my life.
In the right light,
the dim of dusk
brings a glow
which kisses everything.
The quality of this light
forms speech which calls to me…
“Come on home, Sweet One. You have done well.
It is time to rest now. Tomorrow we begin again together.”
If light is in your heart, you will find your way home.
Rumi
Copyright@CynthiaCadyStanton.com, Feb. 2022
As a baby poet,
and a lover of writing,
the words that arrive
seemed to flow effortlessly
for a time.
When I dared to take those
first steps
that one day in a coffee shop,
and my love – after reading the results –
and to my surprise –
proclaimed me a poet,
I blossomed so fully
and beautifully
into joy and purpose.
I shined from the inside out,
blessed by having been seen.
This is what happens
when one is in the flow,
the wellsprings of artful expression.
But lately,
I find myself in the driest season of all.
This dehydration and loss of the words
has begun to hurt.
I feel it in the tightness of my voice –
a constipation in manifestation…
of engagement in my gifts.
So where did those waters of life go?
There is still a heart in me
that longs to speak.
There is still a soul
that seeks to inspire.
There is still a desire
to connect artfully
and with meaningful impact –
not out of a need for praise,
but of a soul-drive to be helpful –
to connect to our common humanity.
But here I am.
Thirsty for the words
and waiting to be quenched
by the flow
which glows through me.
It has been a season
of healing and grief for me.
There has been a deep dive
into all the embodied pain
I have been carrying –
lugging around through life
unwittingly.
The drag of it all
has finally caught up with me.
I have been brought to my knees
to find a profound humility.
Now that I am getting back on my feet again,
and on sacred ground,
feeling healed and graced
with a deeper listening to life,
I sense the presence of inspiration again.
She whispers softly,
but with an urgency
that deepens my attention.
So the words are starting to spring forth gently.
I know I must share them –
for I know they are needed
for the many who thirst longingly
just like me.
My heart begins to pour them out
as I enter the flow
once again.
Copyright@cynthiacadystanton.com, Jan. 2022
When the chill of being alone
is knitted to the bone,
I long for you,
my friend.
It is too easy to feel capable
of navigating this life
in a solitary way –
to convince myself that
all is well,
and I am fine –
strong and muscled
in all the right places.
But as my bones begin to creak and groan,
and my sturdy stride weakens,
I feel my empty hand hungry
for your grasp.
Life does not want us to be alone.
And now as I sit
in the cold and dark,
the chill in my heart whispers,
“You need someone next to you to
warm this bleak contraction –
for there is no valor in enduring isolation.”
I sigh the kind of sigh that has the breath of the ocean within it…
and realize my need of a companion-
Being competent is not enough anymore,
and does not warm the soul
like a shared laughable moment would.
It’s friends who bring the warmth
with the their love and care,
and also the light which
illuminates and heals.
A good friend walks side by side with you –
a better friend helps you see more
along the way…
They provide the mirror you need
for your own evolution.
And so, the time for reaching out is here.
The confining walls fall away –
and this pressing question reaches my lips:
Where are you?
Copyright @Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2021
I like to get up before the sun does.
It is a kind of race
to greet the day first, for
being alone in the stillness of the morning
fuels me.
When I walk in the quiet
of my slumbering neighborhood,
and I can look up at the moon
and the stars,
and feel the crisp morning air
on my sleepy skin,
I am like a wakening flower bud.
I open to the promise
of a new day –
of being in fresh light.
I am a rare creature, I know.
Few would take the covers off so early
to brave the chill.
But me? I just get some coffee in me,
bundle up, and go.
It is the most liberating time of my day –
for yesterday has been filed away…
and it is just me, the stars,
and hope.
So, I lift up my voice
and sing, joining the bird chorus
as the glow begins to dawn.
This is what morning energy does for me.
I move forward through the dark and
rise with the sun.
It is a kind of practice, you see.
If I can dance my way through the dark
feeling safe and happy,
then I have mastered the power
of self-transcendence.
I have learned to let go,
and relax into the flow of life.
It is a kind of cleanse
that reminds me that I am actually
free to be –
and no loss or regret
can keep me under the covers
for very long.
Copyright @ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2021
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart, and you will never walk alone.
Gerry and the Pacemakers
Becoming and Beholding 