Poem · Poetry

Be a Branch

You come to me with searching eyes,

your shoulders slumped,

your breathing shallow.

“I need help,” you say.

I open my arms

and reach for you,

taking you into the Love,

ever-present.

Comfort flowers.

An elderly woman drops her grocery bag

and oranges and potatoes scatter

all over the road –

I run to her.

My hands get busy gathering her food.

Our eyes connect and

together we laugh.

There is no problem, anymore.

We are connected.

Everyday, situations show up

to wake us up to

who we are

and why we are here.

Most of the time,

we don’t notice.

We are too busy with ourselves,

living as if

we are on our own.

We forget that God needs us

in order to be seen,

to be realized –

and we need God.

“I am the vine.

You are the branches.”

The instruction is given:

We are deeply connected to God

and when we extend ourselves

in Love,

life blossoms as it should –

and God is at work

with us.

Nothing else makes more sense

or is as beautiful.

Be a branch.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

branches

Poem · Poetry

Rite of Passage

 

It arrives unexpectedly

that moment when deep disappointment hits you –

like a sucker punch to the stomach.

Suddenly, your world

makes no sense to you.

That someone you love

is not who you thought they were…

this hurts the most

when it is your parent –

because you thought your foundation

was there.

Life has begun to rattle you

in every direction.

A sadness starts to settle in –

reminding you of your

loss of innocence

when the truth about Santa Claus

was revealed –

only this time,

when the dream of your life

gets shattered,

it lasts much longer

than the life of the Christmas tree
and it cuts more deeply.

Don’t panic, young one.

Honor this new unsettled pain.

It means you are beginning to burst

through your cocoon.

Your limiting beliefs

no longer serve you.

Life is opening up

and you are being born.

Embrace your brokenness

and the softness and light

it will bring you.

You have entered your true work.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017

sad face