Poem · Poetry

Finding the Poem

 

It comes in the quiet of the morning,

or sometimes on a walk among the trees.

Like a tender bud,

it germinates inside my heart,

until it must be born.

I write

because this process

brings me closer to God –

to the very spark of life

within me.

I write

because when I do,

I am blessed with the very Presence

I seek every moment.

I write

because my restless soul

comes alive when my words

enliven a page.

I write

because it touches you,

and in sharing my voice,

my purpose is born.

I write,

because I must.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018laptop and writing

Poem · Poetry

Infant Poet

 

It is the strangest thing

when a poem takes over.

Kidnapped by it,

sometimes it lifts me above

to broaden my view –

or it can

lean me forward

with such focus,

everything else falls away

except the nub of it all.

 

Expanding and contracting,

I breathe the poem

and it breathes me.

We are one,

locked in a gentle tussle

until it is time

for the poem to be born.

 

I never thought of myself

as a poet.

It feels like a gift

given to an infant –

like a mobile hanging above a crib,

like a toy

to keep me busy

and broaden my senses –

to show me who I am

and help me

find my words.

There is an awkwardness –

but also,

deep joy

and a radiance that

nourishes.

 

I have come to rely

on my poems.

They are a gift

akin to the blessing

of having a loving parent

whose embrace

shows me the way.

 

Copyright © Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017

 

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