Poem · Poetry

A Proper Sorting and Tossing

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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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

On The Wing of The Breath

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

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

In The Right Light

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.”

The light can change everything.
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If light is in your heart, you will find your way home.

Rumi

Copyright@CynthiaCadyStanton.com, Feb. 2022

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Look For Them

You can see them on the periphery

or sometimes in small groups.

Often they are alone,

sitting comfortably and quietly observing.

These are the wise ones.

They may be bent by the years

and a little rough around the edges.

They may move slowly 

and with care…

for they have learned to honor the limits.

When in their presence,

look deeply.

Meet their eyes with yours.

You will be stunned by the light of life

which sparkles with the kind of glow

that can only be fashioned over time.

Allow yourself to soak up its wisdom.

Take the time.

Don’t miss this connection.

Instead, know this:

these are the ones to know –

for they long to sing their song for you,

to tell the story.

Life has finally made them real.

If you slow down enough

to take a seat,

you will discover gold.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2020

 

“Once you are real you cannot be ugly except to those who don’t understand.”  —Velveteen Rabbit

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Why I Love the Morning

It’s the quiet…

the ease of peace

that permeates –

just as the light gently travels

through the trees

and into my soul.

 

It’s the anticipation…

of yet another chance

for lessons to take root –

and new directions

to unfold.

 

It’s the trust…

that all the days past

have been worth any pain,

and there are no regrets

which can darken this new light.

 

It’s the love…

that gratitude which shimmers

and brightens my vision

to just how blessed it is

to have this life,

this very day.

 

I am but a bird singing,

a flower opening,

a cat purring,

and a baby giggling.

Mornings have this affect on me.

They elate.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, August, 2020

 

This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. Welcome and entertain them all! – Rumi

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

This Heart

 

This heart is a strong muscle.

It never disappoints.

When put to work,

there is always strength,

there is always strength.

 

This heart is a deep well.

When the bucket is lowered

and dips into its depths,

there is always refreshment,

there is always refreshment.

 

This heart is a vista.

When the journey tires,

I can sit and rest.

I see it all. 

There is always a vision,

there is always a vision.

 

This heart is a blanket.

When the chill arrives,

I reach for warmth.

There is always an embrace,

there is always an embrace.

 

This heart is home.

When the moments

add up to years,

I can look back and within.

There is always love,

there is always love.

 

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2020

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Climb In

 

Come float with me, dear one.

Climb into my boat.

I will grab your hand

and lift you in.

We can ride this out together.

The current will take us in its way

but we can see a new shore

over there.

If we work together,

we can point the boat

and use our muscles

to reach that new 

and beautiful land.

The journey may be hard –

but inch by inch,

wave by wave,

we will make it.

So, climb in.

The invitation is clear.

Together we are safe.

We can make it

because we are strong.

Float with me.

Let’s rise above the current.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, June 2020.

Don’t be one of those who won’t risk the ocean. Load the ship and set out. – Rumi

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

I Miss Your Face

 

At least I can see your eyes –

even though they look sad and tired.

Your shoulders, too, are not the same.

They are rounded.

Perhaps an unnamed shame is weighing you down…

or maybe grief.

There is good reason for grief.

You stand at an awkward distance

as if a cloud of contagion was

surrounding me 

like Pig Pen’s dust.

I feel embarrassed somehow

by the invisible cloud.

I mean you no harm, of course.

Your eyes dodge mine, anyway.

The disconnect between us, 

is strange –

its wordless noise brings 

a haunting isolation.

The masks have swallowed our voices.

I hope one day to see your smile…

Your dependable dimples

could always brighten my day.

But now all I see is the barrier

we all have to wear.

I miss your face.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, May 2020.

 

woman-with-face-mask-and-latex-gloves-holding-a-shopping-bag-4226269

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Permission to Grow

 

With an abundance of time,

I can get a bit lost.

I am used to being driven

by duty,

with all its necessary tasks

keeping me busy.

But I am not so needed

right now –

or so it seems.

Reluctantly, I learn to be grateful 

for the quiet,

the stillness that is always underneath.

I sit and open to it.

Once rested and

pretty soon, 

my eyes begin to catch a vision

while my heart bubbles forth

with an effervescent song.

Its music is an invitation to grow –

to gather all the pieces

and moments

of wisdom, pain, and insight that

have been stacking in the corners –

to sit with them

and to honor their sacredness.

 

As I look back to review them,

the melody of their song

begins to weave together.

It travels in and through me,

bringing lightness and energy

to my searching heart.

The music floats up into my awareness

and sings to me:

       You know how to knit all this together.

       Trust what has been given to you.

The words form into a melody

only I can hear.

I can see now that

there is a song to be born, and

I have been invited 

to sing it.

My feet become light

as I learn dance 

to a new tune.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, May 2020

“To love someone is to learn the song in their heart and to sing it to them when they have forgotten.” – Arne Garbing

silhouette-of-man-holding-guitar-on-plant-fields-at-daytime-89909

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

The Return

 

Here we are again.

You are You,

and I am learning to be me.

It’s funny…

this long road I have travelled

with all the detours along the way,

while You simply waited.

I thought I had a long way to go.

But I was wrong.

I just needed to stop

and allow myself

a different view.

Now I am on the vista.

I see your landscape

and my place in it.

It takes my breath away

as all the tension

of trying so hard

floats away.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2020

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