Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Lighted From Within

 

Oh, the view that blesses

when the horizon glows

whether morning or evening.

The bright moon in the distance

also inspires

as it illuminates the soul.

Seeing light from a distance

is an invitation

that instructs…

For I can wander in the darkness

for days

or even months…

but when the light enters in

from afar,

a new energy

begins to germinate again

as its beams touch me.

I become sprouted and fed –

even if only for a bit.

These glimpses provide for me.

As I grow and heal

and new branches form –

stretching me beyond

all the ways and limits –

daring to ignore the broken places –

the glow given grows.

I know healing has arrived

when I have less need

of the horizon

and all its sparkling colors.

Sure, the hues and brilliance

still are a gift and reminder…

They show me what lies deep within me –

the colors that shine and beam

through me

in a never ending way.

I am lighted from within

and I know where to look

when I need the horizon.

 

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

Entering the Dance

When the winds are shifting,

and change is here,

I sometimes shudder with

fear, which blankets my heart

in a covering so itchy…

the restlessness it brings

grows like a cancer,

consuming health.

I wonder out loud,

and through every pore –

my cells scream

            No!

The resistance builds a wall

around my soul,

and I begin to hide.

I grieve…

the tears wash over

all the tensions and aches,

bringing yet another baptism.

Eventually, I remember

that changes bring a

kind of birthing process…

and I know there is

something beautiful coming

after this pain.

I love how tears

release and inform

all at once – as if

we must break, deeply –

apart and before

we can be refashioned.

These very insights, eventually

bring gratitude.

I know,

it does’t make sense

to the logical mind…

but it is the dance of Spirit

within and beyond me.

When I learn to 

accept the invitation to 

the dance of life,

letting go of my need to 

lead it,

I get lighter on my feet,

and my being

finally hears the music

and is wrapped in comfort  

and delight.

I am set free.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

Each One, A Mountain

Everyone has something

It is a mantra that is inwardly voiced

more and more

as I get older.

We each have our own brand of challenge.

As life progresses,

these challenges unfold

and introduce themselves.

Sometimes they swallow us up

with the force of a big ocean wave…

Or, they might creep upon us

like a spreading mold.

We get to choose 

how to respond

when our personal mountain

shows up.

For some,

the mountain may be too vast

to climb alone –

so we bring loving souls with us.

For others,

the mountain may be a series of hills

which warrants a solo journey –

each vista building strength within.

We may fool ourselves, thinking

that our mountain 

is bigger than anyone else’s –

that somehow,

our mountain warrants

special attention…

But as we mature,

and build our climbing muscles,

our compassionate heart opens,

our personal nature fades,

and our vision widens

to see what others endure.

Our climbing becomes

the road to awakening

to what this life 

is all about.

Yes, we each have a mountain –

especially designed for our own unfolding…

but as we meet it,

with grace and courage,

the vista that comes,

connects us to the 

suffering of others.

This is the stuff of

a life well-lived.

So, I bow to my mountain –

giving thanks for its lessons…

for without its presence,

I would walk with blinders on,

tripping on my own feet,

and all alone.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Acquainted With Grief

Somewhere between meeting the new

and releasing the comfortable

there will always be grief.

It is that separation thing

that is oh, so inevitable –

and as predictable as 

melting ice cream.

It is the tug along the way 

that pulls at the heart,

sometimes tearing it painfully –

leaving scars that 

mark the spot.

Nothing lasts –

or so it seems.

It takes a lifetime to figure this out.

Eventually, we learn

that grief is the price of love –

given and received.

I bump into grief every day.

When I see it in another,

its embers are sparked in me 

and the familiar ache of it all

shows up,

reminding me of its 

ready presence,

pouncing on me,

like a mugger on a morning walk.

Grief has an I get it quality

when witnessed in another…

Our earthly existence

comes with loss

woven deeply into its tapestry.

We can see it in each other’s faces –

when we dare to look up.

Loss is the glue 

that connects us

and joins us together. 

Some think God causes this sadness

as if to manipulate us

to devotion

by bringing us to our knees

with heartache.

I disagree.

To me, God is all trust and love

with an unimaginable capacity

for wisdom and compassion –

and is not the cause

of our suffering.

If anything, God gets it –

suffers and grieves with us ,

weeping as we weep.

God knows that the answer

to grief

is the loving embrace –

the one we share with one another,

and the one 

God gives with

Everlasting Arms –

through us.

We are not alone,

ever.

This must be realized.

When it comes to grief,

and life (as it turns out)…

well, we are in it together –

and once we get off the floor,

after extreme loss has arrived,

we can move forward,

side by side,

learning a deepening resilience

together.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

Transitioning

 

When in an unfamiliar place,

you are on your way.

It usually comes with lots of tension.

You become unsettled,

and maybe even a little bit scared.

Transitions are that rocky time

when your usual patterns are useless

and you have to allow for

change.

The big ones are literally

earth-shattering,

setting you off kilter,

making you feel raw and

vulnerable.

But when you get to the other side,

you are in that shiny spot of

All New.

You have grown new muscle, and

you are reborn.

When this freedom flowers,

you realize that

the pain of change

was nothing but 

the peeling of the layers

that are no longer needed.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018