Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Snow on Trees

 

Don’t despair the soul season

when all the green is gone

and you feel darkened

and bare.

These are the times when

you stand alone, while

everyone looks past you

to escape to the horizon beyond.

You feel planted in place

with nowhere to grow, and

the present brittleness

makes you snap easily.

Though unpleasant and cold –

while in this raw nakedness, 

please be reminded that

you are in a good position.

You are in the right place –

the proper season.

You are ripe for grace.

A season of cold and dark

is a gift like no other.

For when the white glow arrives,

softly blanketing and

offering beauty and peace –

healing is gifted.

You are born again with the

verdant seeds needed

to bloom again

and commune with others.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Nurture

 

You are but a drooping plant

with a bowed-browned bloom.

Your light is not reflecting –

the shadows grow.

Grief visible like this

is more easily watered.

It calls out for nurturance.

When hidden,

it festers 

and roots into every pore,

making us sick –

stealing the colors.

This is the usual way…

for we are all good at facades

and hiding.

We smile brightly,

despite the pained cracks within.

    Where does it hurt, my friend?

Show me the place

and tell me the story.

Dig out the pain from

your hardened crusts – fashionably covered.

Lift your voice and let the cry be born.

Let me know what is needed.

Take the covers off

and allow the hurt to move you

to a new place of freedom.

All is well, and

I am here with you.

You belong.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Be a Tree

 

You can stand in your ground

with roots that grasp to

all that matters

and holds you in place.

You can reach for the light and

blossom in its glow.

You bloom and grow,

bloom and grow –

shedding what is no longer needed,

in the appropriate season.

Other beings are attracted to you…

they sense your peace.

Its good to allow them

to hug you,

and be in your presence.

For sharing the strength and life

of your core

brings healing –

and releases the knots of

tension and contraction which cause

unnecessary twisting.

As the winds and storms arrive,

remember who you are.

You are not the weather.

You are a tree.

You observe.

You lend air.

You stand tall and alert, and

your stillness blesses.

Copyright © Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

The Gray

 

It seems easier

when what feels clear and true

is always right, too.

It is a comfort

when the ground on which

we stand and build upon

has the strength

of generations

or habit.

We like our side of the street.

The other side

is far away, and

difficult to see.

It is not important to us.

For all is clear where we are.

It feels safe and protected.

In between these sharp edges

of clarity

is the territory

of the gray.

It is a fuzzier place.

The ground seems shakier.

We are repelled by it –

but, at times,

a bit curious, too.

Mostly,

we prefer familiar ground.

Thankfully, life ends up instructing us

along the way,

through hardship and insight,

to be more open to the gray.

Our edges get worn down

and are revealed to us

as false structures.

In the middle,

is the place of softening

and opening up.

It is the place of meeting –

of healing.

Life is less

black and white

in the gray.

There are new choices to explore,

colors to adore.

When we can learn

to embrace

this middle place,

wisdom is born,

along with a letting go

which liberates

and brings us together.

When we enter the gray,

we have learned the value

of dropping

what does not matter.

Copyright@ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

Eyes of Love

 

You look so put together

with everything in place

and sparkly.

You are a treat for tired eyes.

But I know better

than to be fooled by the surface of things.

Sometimes what appears on the outside

is the opposite

of what is on the inside.

We are crafty in our hiding ways.

So I open myself up

to the depths of you.

My eyes look past the veneer.

We could pretend –

play a game of make believe

and pretend the surface

is all there is.

It is, after all,

how most of us operate.

We barely even look at each other.

But who wants to live like that?

It makes my heart ache

at the thought

that what we see

is all there is.

No.

“Go deep!”

This is the call of the heart

and the work of Love

in our midst.

I will always be willing

to pull back the pretty curtain

and dare to see

what is true within.

Otherwise,

what is the point?

I am here for you,

ready to see

and to listen.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017

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Poem · Poetry

New Ground

The pull of patterns weighs me down

and sucks me in

to that space that agitates

and darkens the room

keeping me from the lightness

that beckons deeply.

Even with you,

though I longed to be next to you

after seasons apart,

what is new and better and different

struggles to shine.

We settle for old and familiar,

the constrictions

set long ago.

 

I want you to know me.

Not the me you think you know,

but the evolving me

that dares to bloom

even at my age,

when most settle for being set.

I’m not.

I am a dynamic canvas.

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Copyright © 2017 Cynthia Cady Stanton