Poem · Poetry

Divine Utterances

 

It amazes me sometimes

how close You are.

All that is needed is

a moment

to leap out of myself

and into your breath.

I breathe in

and there You are –

and I am suddenly larger…

kinder –

to self 

and beyond self.

You whisper… “See?”

And then, “Settle yourself.”

And then, “No worries.”

Finally, “Be the Love you are.”

Oh, for the presence of mind and heart

to remember this!

You are never far away

and I belong to You –

like a bird belongs to its song,

and the moon belongs

to the sky.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

We Are Needed

 

It takes just a moment

to pause and let go –

to notice.

Presence always waits patiently for us.

She is found in the smallest of things…

 

The slow drip of water 

off a rock

which holds the riverbank in place….

Presence is there.

 

The thought that gives birth to the word that spawns a tear…

Yes.  There.

 

In that moment between

the reach of your hand

to the lifting of another –

Or when the homeless man 

catches your eye and

a generous smile blooms…

There!

 

How short our time is!

We squander Presence like we waste water…

We forget to look,

to hear the slow drip,

to speak the unspoken word.

We get lonely in this poverty

of connection.

 

Sad, isn’t it?

This slip of a rose through the grasp of our fingers.

We ignore the dropped flower

and miss out on the bouquet,

the colors…

And then we grieve the loss of 

a flower to cheer us –

it’s brilliance unwitnessed.

 

Love is like this , too.

It can hide beneath.

 

So, let’s elevate the 

Presence and the Love, too.

For without them,

we aren’t even here.

And we are so needed.

 

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

That Part of Me

 

My heart is working hard these days

with loss and loneliness.

I am an orphan seeking home. 

The grief of moving through the landscape which

is my life

tugs at the ways I have 

stitched myself together.

This waking up is painful –

but as I move forward,

I open my heart to it.

 

It is a time of deepening –

of allowing the mystery to instruct

and show me

the location of my true belonging.

The older I get,

the more acquainted I am

with this type of deep reckoning.

It is familiar terrain and

I have visited it often.

When I look back, I can see this.

But in this moment, 

choosing to be present

feels like valor.

 

I gradually take on the challenge

as little pieces of me mend.

I begin to hear again the 

warm and forgiving invitation.

It calls to me like

a song over the hillside,

sending music to my ears and heart.

I allow this embrace of mystery which

wells up within my very soul.

This is the place which

connects me to the beauty of it all

and the realization of belonging.

I find my way home again

and I learn to dwell in a sweet peace.

I dare to hold everything –

all the precious pain and longing.

Thanksgiving visits me –

I am surprised as it wells up like a wave

and invites me to rest in a beautiful tenderness.

This is Life and Grace

given and received.

They had never left.

 

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

“Secret work is being done in us of which we have no inkling.”  John O’Donahue

 

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

The Heart of It All

 

The hand that grasps and controls

is the same hand

that lets go.

 

The mind that sorts and decides

is the same mind  

that can be opened by mystery

or pain.

 

The eyes that do not really see

but look past,

are the same ones

that can catch the vision

of truth.

 

We are but soft clay

yet we act as if cast in stone –

armored in our ways.

But life is not done shaping us.

Changes always come to

meet us where we are

and show us another way.

 

The time for invocation is here.

So lift up your sad, stiff heart –

mistakenly broken by you alone –

and ask Life to soften it.

For the heart of it all,

it seems,

is to be anchored in softness –

so you can be ready for anything.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

When the Poems Do Not Arrive

When the poems do not arrive,

it is time to sit and quiet.

Rest is needed

so trust in Life can

bubble up for expression

and flow in a new way.

 

When the poems do not arrive

and the wings of inspiration

do not lift and lighten,

one must look within with honesty.

Where are the blocks?

When found, raise them up

and bless them.  

Be grateful for the freedom they bring

when discovered and set aside.

 

When the poems do not arrive,

grieve a little and

then let go.

For there is no one to blame.

This is not about you.

There is only understanding

waiting for the dawn.

It always comes.

 

When the poems do not arrive,

be patient.

For when Presence returns,

so will the words that illuminate it.

 

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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