Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Like Me

 

Like me,

I bet you don’t like to be

inconvenienced by illness or stress.

 

Like me,

you probably aim to control and manage

everything in front of you.

 

Like me,

sadness is not an option

you would choose.

 

Like me,

your busyness gets in the way

of your experience of peace and

even love.

 

Like me,

your striving and perfectionism

puts you in a box

which limits spontaneity and joy.

 

Like me,

your thoughts drive you

and mostly go unnoticed.

 

But also like me,

you are growing in awareness.

 

Like me,

you don’t give up.

 

Like me,

laughter and health

bubble forth, anyway.

 

Like me,

you are a Velveteen Rabbit,

and you are being loved

into being made more real.

 

Like me,

you are learning the 

gift of surrender.

 

Like me,

grace finds you.

 

Like me,

you are grateful for it all.

 

In peace,

my spirit bows to your spirit.

We are one.

And you are like me.

 

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

Big Love

 

When one of us is lost,

all that is needed is the touch of another

whether to tender skin or the wounded heart.

For none of us are perfectly on track

all the time, are we?

So we help one another to steer and soften.

 

When one of us is sick,

it is time for a cup of Big Love –

we fill it with grace mixed with empathy

so the sickness cannot take root,

causing the soul to wither,

in a feeling of aloneness.

 

If disconnection broadens, 

it is time to seek your teacher –

that wiser one who loves as God loves,

without measure, and

 while nurturing the current lesson to birth.

A good teacher mirrors your imminent Spring 

as you struggle to blossom

and see.

 

This is what Big Love looks like –

its embrace feels like freedom on the wing.

Its presence is grace realized

as sibling souls open and

reach out to you,

sparking Truth and Light

so you can be healed.

 

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

 

Photo credit to Gary Stanton, my husband, who also gave me the mug recently when I was sick – the inspiration for this poem.  Thank you, Honey!  xoxo

 

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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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