Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Holly Jolly

 

Little goofy snowmen –

Their grins imperfect and sweet, cause

me to giggle inside

and step a little more lightly, so

a smile forms in me,

too.

 

Christmas songs in the car

blaring and sometimes irritating, but

still able to get me singing, freeing

me from caring what

others might think, because

no one can hear me.

They connect me, nevertheless

to childhood Christmas bliss, which

warms me deeply, and

brings a twinkle to my eyes.

 

The Christmas season lingers

longer than in past years…

so much of it is commercial, but

hopefully, it is also spiritual.

 

Perhaps, in these times when

connecting deeply to life seems harder,

we need the simple uplift

of silly snowmen, and

familiar holiday songs, to

be less weighted down.

One can hope, in the elevation provided, that

the vision of the Christ child

in a manger, surrounded

by a loving family –

friendly animals and kings – and

blanketed by angels – 

can inspire us enough to

bring our lifted spirits to

meet each moment

in this great life

given.

In this way,

Christmas joy can become

never-ending –

the true gift of the season.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

Count It All Joy

He laid in his hospital bed

set up next to his wife’s bed –

his hands contracted

and useless,

his body dependent

on the help of others –

just to move at all,

or eat, or even

brush his teeth.

This bed has been his dwelling place

for over five years,

his disease shrinking and stiffening his body,

rendering his muscles

unworkable –

keeping him confined,

and stuck.

He is one of my favorite patients.

His eyes always sparkle,

his mind is unfailingly engaged,

his words ever generous.

“I am a lucky guy.”

This is the song he sings

no matter what pain may be present

or loss on the forefront.

“I have no complaints.”

Before him,

on his bookcase,

are about 50 journal books

he has filled

with reflections and illustrations

of his weekly walks in the woods

as he observed and gloried

in the wonders of nature.

“Nature used to be my religion.

And then I found God.”

This was life pre-diagnosis.

When I look at him,

a prisoner in his bed and so small,

I am grateful

he had a former life

of movement and joy

in Nature and beyond this room.

“I am a lucky guy,”

he states again and again,

and I marvel at

how he glows.

He has an understanding

that I hope is within reach for me.

He knows

that everyone has “something”

and this is his.

“The way I figure it,” he states,

“God put me here for a reason.

And when anyone comes to see me,

I hope I can be a light for them.

I hope I can make them happy.”

He radiates

effortlessly and profoundly

and I cannot help

but be changed.

He shows me the way

to what is real.

I begin to understand

the gift of joy

in all circumstances

and the suffering that comes

with resisting

what lies before us.

As I say goodbye,

He says,

“I hope I will see you again.”

I smile.

Oh, you will.

You will.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

choose joy