Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Over the Hump

Climbing can be hard work

on the muscles,

and on the spirit, too.

We can approach the mountain 

in faith and,

even a sense of adventure –

until we get to 

our limit.

We have gone as far as

we can go 

on our own.

No progress is possible.

We are tempted to give up.

But then,

we somehow get

the boost we need.

We can move forward 

with muscles ready

to work again.

As we progress,

new vistas are brought into view.

They bless us with beauty

and hope.

This is what the

miracle of grace

looks like.

We are lifted out of struggle.

We are blessed

with peace.

It is as if 

           a loving hand from the beyond shows up

and respectfully,

picks you up off the floor.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

It Happens…

 

….. if we are one of the lucky ones, that is.

We get older.

When did this natural reality –

with wrinkles in the mix,

become a source of shame?

I admit it,

I struggle with the mirror.

We, me and the mirror, have a daily dialogue which

is too personal to share…

For this reason, 

I try to keep my glasses off

when near a reflective surface,

like a mirror or window,

that is how silly of a woman I can be.

I am angry that I was taught

to be self-conscious, evaluative

on a daily basis.

Why do we do this to women, to girls?

I marvel how men could care less.

Their freedom is awesome

and also more affordable.

And as a spiritual woman,

I am embarrassed I still struggle with all this.

I know I go deeper than all that.

So, I am learning to embrace my wrinkles,

and all the rest of it –

as a woman in my fifties.

This is just another example of

how I must get out of my own way

in order to be

the wonderful creation

I was meant to be –

so I can be free, too.

Therefore, 

give me laughter,

give me love,

give me purpose,

and humility, too.

Bless me with health.

That is all I really need.

I  will take care of myself

as best I can,

and let go of the rest

with grace.

Life is way too short

and I know too well

where this all heads.

But I am not there yet.

My wrinkles tell a story…

the story of me.

Amen to that.

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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Poem · Poetry

Giving Voice

When a situation suddenly

and without expectation –

turns

in a healing direction,

your heart wants to sing.

For you had lost hope,

and could not see

what you could do to

help.

And here it is –

the needed change

on the way…

The joy of it is

bright.

Your gratitude starts to bubble

up.

It starts deep in your stomach,

then springs to your heart –

opens it wide,

and sets it on fire.

Next, it flies up through your vocal chords,

making sweet vibrations.

It is a song that

must be sung.

So, on the wings of a grateful

heart,

your song passes

through your lips and

dances off your tongue:

“I SEE YOU.”

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

We All Die Our Own Way

We may wither and bend

like a broken flower,

close to life gradually

and fall quietly,

nourishing the life around us

as a life well-lived.

Or, we may get chopped down

violently, like a tree in its prime,

shaking the foundations.

How we die

is not up to us.

“I thought it would be easier somehow,”

said the patient.

One wonders if

the amount of presence we give to

the life we have now

informs and shapes

our own death, which waits…

It seems a courageous choice

to consider.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

Poem · Poetry

Pure Presence

You look at me with eyes of love

and complete attention.

You gracefully place your body

next to mine,

molding into me

for complete contact.

There is no space between us –

only pure presence.

As you relax and soften,

so do I.

Your purr

motors my heart to joy.

Your headbutts

nudge me firmly to awaken

to the affection in this moment.

Your eyes,

your eyes…

invite me to deepen

and embrace the music

hidden in my heart.

You bring God to me

and I am blessed.

I love you for that.

Eventually, you move away

to what is next for you.

Your work is done.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

The Body Knows

Oh, the tattletale that lives within

that whispers all my secrets!

I wear my thoughts and habits

visibly

and in the sea of tension

that seems at constant

high tide

filling up all my spaces

and flexing my muscles

long after their work is done.

Reversing this tide

and harnessing my inner moon

is a daily task

that calls –

like music calls to my heart,

or insight calls to my pen.

I have to ask myself:

What is this inner grip, this tension

really all about?

I have a magic tool

which will help me to know.

I stop. I breathe. I listen.

The body knows.

With amazing patience,

it waits for me.

Copyright@ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017

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