Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Nevertheless, Spring Forth!

 

The weight is heavy – 

this boulder on top of you.

It came out of nowhere!

You are stuck.

Never before have you felt such a hard, unrelenting blockage.

This rock is cold.

This pain is real.

It is time to hunker down

and see who is with you –

to be reminded that you are not alone.

Your roots reach to touch others

who share your dilemma,

your pain.

As the seeds within you

fight for survival,

you dare to stretch. 

You find another.

Together, your reach is stronger.

Together, you find a community –

one that works together

to search the cold surfaces 

to find the cracks.

For, no matter how hard the rock is,

it is no match

for the faith of a community

that seeks the light.

Your strength is in knowing that

the light is always there.

It cannot be extinguished –

no matter how big or daunting

the rock is.

 

Therefore, bloom!

Do not give up.

Reach for the light together.

Crack that rock apart

and let the strength within

spring forth!

You have it in you –

for you were born to find the light.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2020

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Late Bloomer

 

I saw some unusual flowers yesterday

which bloomed in unexpected ways.

Their beauty ignited my heart

and blessed me with renewed vision.

Witnessing a perfect glow can do that –

it connects us to what is real

and true.

 

We color the world with so many hues –

the seasons directing the light

and filling the wide spectrum perfectly.

Sometimes the necessary germination before

the the colors can be expressed

takes time –

and that is by design.

For a full bloom

cannot be forced prematurely.

 

To be a flower

means being present to

the light being born in you

in its own time.

Your bloom will arrive in its fullness,

according to the Gardener’s plan.

 

Therefore, rest in the truth of the sunrise

and be soothed by the rain.

Wait your turn.

Your job is to allow the glow to be born in you

and to trust in the promised opening.

For part of the beauty of it all

is that the timing of your full flowering is not up to you…

It is perfectly fine and beautiful still

to be a late bloomer.

Copyright©Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

Photo credit by Gary Stanton, taken at Heritage Museums and Gardens in Sandwich, MA.

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Snow on Trees

 

Don’t despair the soul season

when all the green is gone

and you feel darkened

and bare.

These are the times when

you stand alone, while

everyone looks past you

to escape to the horizon beyond.

You feel planted in place

with nowhere to grow, and

the present brittleness

makes you snap easily.

Though unpleasant and cold –

while in this raw nakedness, 

please be reminded that

you are in a good position.

You are in the right place –

the proper season.

You are ripe for grace.

A season of cold and dark

is a gift like no other.

For when the white glow arrives,

softly blanketing and

offering beauty and peace –

healing is gifted.

You are born again with the

verdant seeds needed

to bloom again

and commune with others.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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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

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

The Call of the Light

Breaking through the gray

as the darkness begins to enfold me,

it appears:

               Remember me?  I am here.

I barely  hear its message.

I am too caught up in the gloom.

              Remember me?  I am here.

The light persists…

but the darkness holds on.

              Look up, look out.  There is more.

The invitation gets more urgent

for the light can see

more than I can.

It does not want

the darkness to swallow me.

The light begins to reach out

and touch me.

It opens my heart.

As my heart warms and flexes,

my vision gradually blooms –

the shadows retreat

and the glow arrives.

I am healing

and the light

leads me forward.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

Artwork by my sister, Martha Harris:  “Beacon”

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Poem · Poetry

Signal Lights

With the guiding of inspiration,

they come through me,

pointing the way.

Their clarity can be piercing –

sharp and brilliant,

beacons through my

self-created fog.

I wonder at how

they show up-

just when I need them the most.

They are like friends who

know when a smile or a hug

is needed.

And, in the same way,

they are cherished, unconditionally.

This is what my poems mean for me.

I help create them, but

do not quite live them yet.

They love me still.

Funny, how words create worlds…

the beyond is brought forth

in the same way

a kiss presents affection.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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