Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

I Miss Your Face

 

At least I can see your eyes –

even though they look sad and tired.

Your shoulders, too, are not the same.

They are rounded.

Perhaps an unnamed shame is weighing you down…

or maybe grief.

There is good reason for grief.

You stand at an awkward distance

as if a cloud of contagion was

surrounding me 

like Pig Pen’s dust.

I feel embarrassed somehow

by the invisible cloud.

I mean you no harm, of course.

Your eyes dodge mine, anyway.

The disconnect between us, 

is strange –

its wordless noise brings 

a haunting isolation.

The masks have swallowed our voices.

I hope one day to see your smile…

Your dependable dimples

could always brighten my day.

But now all I see is the barrier

we all have to wear.

I miss your face.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, May 2020.

 

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

First Draft

 

This is not a good poem.

I can’t seem to find my voice –

It is missing among the tangle

in my heart.

I keep digging in the bramble

and coming up empty.

I invite her back

and tell her I miss her soothing tones

which lift and heal.

I miss her guidance.

I know this is an important time –

a time when the losses are dramatic and scary

and a deeper knowing 

is required. 

I have been preparing for this moment

as have you.

Life has brought us here together.

We have certainly hit the brambles before.

And we have made it through…

But this time I find myself speechless.

The brambles are thick and unrelenting,

paralyzing expression.

It seems a moment

when words cannot dare to speak

what the heart cannot sort 

or feel.

It is a time

to nurture the silence.

It needs space right now. 

The words can rest

until they know what to say.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, April 10, 2020

Covid 19 Pandemic

 

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Word Provider

 

Often when I sit to write,

the decision is spontaneous.

I may be in my usual routine,

and then the urge bubbles up.

A thought comes…

        Maybe I will write.

Then I simply position my fingers on the keyboard

and out it flows.

My head, heart, and fingers

are connected to that larger reality

that usually slips through the fingers.

It is an act of faith –

to put myself in the position

to be available

and receive.

I trust the words will come.

And when they do,

I am one with Inspiration

and being 

me.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

Singing a New Song

Not sure how it happened

whether it was gradual

or sudden.

I wish I could remember

the moment it all changed –

when my voice no longer matched

the person that I am.

Suddenly,

it hurt to speak –

not only physically,

but existentially.

It has been a painful five years.

Do you know what it is like

to hate the sound of your own voice?

To feel the inward disdain

and embarrassment?

To see the expressions of others change

when you dare to speak?

To bravely express yourself despite it all

and then to feel the pain of faulty speech patterns?

It has a way of shutting a person up,

holding you back.

But now I have hope again,

hope of a voice that sings effortlessly,

a voice that is a joy to listen to,

lilting and silky,

warm and welcoming –

powerful in its message and impact,

comforting and present.

I have hope of healing

the incongruence

of who I am and how I sound.

You see,

I have all this love in my heart

and a soul that needs expression.

Now that I am getting real help with my voice problem,

my whole life is opening up

to what I can be and do

as a beneficial presence for others.

Let the healing commence.

I am in!

Copyright © @ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017

VOICE IMAGE