Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

I Can See Who You Are

We hustle.

We bustle.

We cover up.

We avoid.

In the constant press forward,

the moments are lost.

When able to still ourselves,

we can catch glimpses of 

what is real.

I sat with a patient,

one of the sweet ones

with dementia.

Her eyes alive

with love and openness…

Her speech cute and senseless

most of the time.

I am present to her

and focus on being –

instead of doing.

When the time for goodbye comes,

I touch her shoulder

and lean in.

Her eyes widen

as these words spill forth

in clarity and affection:

           “I can see who you are!”

Grace finds me

and I am blessed by her glimpse.

I am reminded…

I am Love.

Copyright@ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

In the Right Light

My Love points the camera

towards me

and I playfully resist…

“Take my picture outside

and from that preferred angle, my dear.

It makes a more flattering picture.”

I look in the mirror

and the bathroom light is on dimmer…

All I can see are wrinkles!

I change the brightness in the room

and my image improves.

I find my smile.

My Love, the Artist, 

paints a lovely picture.

He uses reflective paints that

need the right angle and intensity

of illumination.

He tilts his creation my way –

in the right light –

its beauty deepens.

All these are glimpses

of an important lesson:

How we see things

is shaped by 

the type of light we shine on 

what is before us.

To see clearly,

be aware of your beam.

For life is dimmed

and perception is affected

by gloom.

To brighten,

simply flick the switch

and tilt towards it.

Observe the changes.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Be Lifted

I sometimes like to watch

the float of a feather.

It can show up unannounced

and bless me

with fresh lightness.

Watching its flowing movement

with no steering wheel

to direct 

or engine powering it –

Well, it looks like freedom.

Most of us 

tend to be weighted

by our day to day.

We load up our minds

with fiction

that keeps us from

the float of grace

intended for us.

Watch the feather,

I tell myself.

It has no need to 

drive or direct,

no agenda to meet,

no cares to protect.

It simply rests

on the unseen flow of life.

It rises above beautifully.

The feather’s lift

is a wonder to behold –

the mystery and gift

of grace realized.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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