Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

I Can See Who You Are

We hustle.

We bustle.

We cover up.

We avoid.

In the constant press forward,

the moments are lost.

When able to still ourselves,

we can catch glimpses of 

what is real.

I sat with a patient,

one of the sweet ones

with dementia.

Her eyes alive

with love and openness…

Her speech cute and senseless

most of the time.

I am present to her

and focus on being –

instead of doing.

When the time for goodbye comes,

I touch her shoulder

and lean in.

Her eyes widen

as these words spill forth

in clarity and affection:

           “I can see who you are!”

Grace finds me

and I am blessed by her glimpse.

I am reminded…

I am Love.

Copyright@ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Be Lifted

I sometimes like to watch

the float of a feather.

It can show up unannounced

and bless me

with fresh lightness.

Watching its flowing movement

with no steering wheel

to direct 

or engine powering it –

Well, it looks like freedom.

Most of us 

tend to be weighted

by our day to day.

We load up our minds

with fiction

that keeps us from

the float of grace

intended for us.

Watch the feather,

I tell myself.

It has no need to 

drive or direct,

no agenda to meet,

no cares to protect.

It simply rests

on the unseen flow of life.

It rises above beautifully.

The feather’s lift

is a wonder to behold –

the mystery and gift

of grace realized.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

This Golden Crack

Like a canvas

before the artist’s brush,

we get our markings.

Our unique hues

and textures

create the picture 

of what seems to be true

about us.

But sometimes life is lived

more like a ceramic pot –

one that gets cracked

along the way…

shattered, even –

the mending of which

is complicated work.

It takes the artist’s hands

and keen attention to detail

to put the pieces together,

beautifully.

It is a necessary process.

This breaking,

followed by the recognition of the mess,

enables us to be held

and mended.

When we submit to the

Master’s hands,

and allow for the

hard work to be done,

we are fashioned anew.

Our cracks become golden

and essential. 

We are forever changed, and

we shine with humble strength

from our broken places.

Like the Velveteen Rabbit,

we have been loved into

becoming more real.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

Tea bowl Tea bowl
; Japan; 17th century; Stoneware with clear, crackled glaze, stained by ink; gold lacquer repairs.; H x W: 10.5 x 12.2 cm (4 1/8 x 4 13/16 in); Gift of Charles Lang Freer
Poem · Poetry

All The Ways

All the ways,

I hide from You…

All the ways,

I run.

The wisdom within

continues to wait, to instruct, but –

all the ways

stay stuck.

I fool myself daily, thinking

all the ways 

work for me.

They seem to make sense

on the surface, but

living with them

and holding onto them,

trips me up.

I long for 

all Your ways…

all Your ways of freedom

of grace,

of truth,

of Love.

I catch glimpses of these.

Sometimes, I am actually 

held by their vision,

warmed by their touch,

inspired and lifted

by their presence.

In those moments,

I remember

all the ways

You are present, and

then I know

all the ways

to be.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

Vitamin See

Pay attention to what you bring into view

but fret not too much

the ingredients on the box.

Nourishment is more than simply

what you eat or drink.

Have you noticed lately

how the trees are bursting?

Is the sound of the sea echoing in 

your mind and your heart, too?

Have you touched a hand lately –

really held it ? The warmth of another

traveling up your arm and straight into your soul?

Our minds are so full and busy,

we open our eyes and barely see,

we breathe but only a little –

just enough to keep going,

but not enough to be present.

Take a walk outside.

Let the sun bathe you,

the trees whisper,

the birds perform their dances,

all for you.

Go barefoot on the beach

and sink a little

into the comfort of being held

by a Love much bigger

than your great imagination –

a Love that holds you up.

Can you hear the quiet of the morning?

It holds the soft hum of Life itself.

This is how to cleanse:

nourish yourself with awareness,

with trees and soil,

with touch.

Copyright © Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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