Poem · Poetry

The Way of the Cat

THE WAY OF THE CAT

Went to bed early
bathed, brushed –
equipped with melatonin
so I could rest.

But the restlessness came
right on time, anyway –
that 2 a.m. buzz
of mind
and senseless planning.

Now, you in my lap
purring at 4:15
while I take in my coffee
and gather myself.

How do you do it?
that deep plop of love and presence
you share to freely?

In this moment,
my heart relaxes.

Thank you.

Copyright© 2017 Cynthia Cady Stanton

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Poem · Poetry

I Am Not My Body

I am not my body.
I am not the wrinkles around my eyes,
nor am I the deep lines forming under my nose.
I am not the softening of my belly that is thickening my waist and
now spilling over my waistbands.
I am not the annoying chin hairs cropping up.
Every time I look in the mirror,
I notice the things I am not.
My eye goes right to anything that screams aging at me,
especially my now droopy neck.
Or the brown spots forming on my face and hands.
“Damn it!” I say to myself.
“I am getting old.”
And I turn away in disgust.

But I am not even the parts of my body that I like.
I am not my pretty blue eyes.
I am not my fit arms or my perky ass.
I am not my feminine hands
nor am I my white teeth
and nice color treated hair.

I am not the bad,
I am not the good.
I am not my body.

I am much more than what I see in a mirror.
I am more than how my clothes feel on me.
I am more than any pain, any tension or ache.
I am more.
I go deeper than all that.
I am larger and more expansive than any image I see as I walk past a mirror,
or window.
I am above and below the skin
I am not the skin.
I am the spirit that gives my body life.
I am the sparkle in my eyes,
the warmth in my voice.
I am the tenderness in my touch.
I am the deep tones of my hearty giggle.
I am the strength behind a sincere embrace.

I am made of stardust.
I am connected deeply to all living beings.
I am energy.
And most of all,
I am divine love expressed.

I am not my body but
I live in my body.
My body may be weathering on the outside
just like any home would.
The paint may be flaking
but a warm light burns within.
A house is not a home
without that inward glow.
Shine on.

Copyright© 2017 Cynthia Cady Stanton

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