Uncategorized

Welcome Mat

As we anticipate sweet hugs

blessed by smiles and bright eyes,

please know that

we are ready for you.

The welcome mat is straightened, and vacuumed –

all debris has been shaken out, set free.

The pillows and towels are washed and fluffed.

Beds are supplied with soft blankets and clean sheets

so you can rest.

The pantry is stuffed

like you soon will be

to satisfy your longing

in body and soul.

This heart is expectant, light –

free of any pain or stress.

There is only love and gratitude for

this coming togetherness.

Everything else can be put to the side.

This moment is worthy of full attention and care.

May this candle that I light

be the beacon you need

to find your way to our embrace.

May the comfort of this time of gathering

soothe any separation that has lingered.

Welcome to our home.

Cynthia Cady Stanton, Thanksgiving 2022

Uncategorized

Vote for Author/Publication of the Month at Spillwords.com

Spillwords.com Voting Page, where Spillwords Press Members can submit their vote for Author of the Month and Publication of the Month.
— Read on spillwords.com/vote/

Hi Followers!

I recently published a poem on Spillwords and it was nominated for publication of the month. I think you will like the poem: “Over It.” Would you please support my writing by voting for my poem? Thank you! I am so honored to be nominated!

Cynthia Stanton

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

The Places Where I Recognize Myself

There are moments when

I catch glimpses myself –

where I picture the kind of woman

I am becoming though

she sometimes feels far away.

I will be in a yoga class and

feel in my body a sense of home on the mat.

“Yes, here,” will be whispered into my heart.

I will stay even if uncomfortable.

I may be holding the hand of another

while they are dying and

listening to their softening voice

while witnessing their growing transparency.

I offer my humanity and breath while I take them in.

I stay.

Yes, here.

Once I was at the beach walking.

The sea spoke to me.

“You belong. Come here often. No need to call ahead.”

I found my home in the world

while listening to the music of the surf.

Now I make time for my toes to be cradled by sand.

My heart, soothed by sea songs 

in the tempo of wholeness and belonging.

I might be peeling carrots and

learning to cook tofu.

I have learned the value of green things.

“This is how to nourish. Eat these. Set this table.”

My body thanks me.

In the neighborhood, I walk 

in the early morning by myself,

saying hello to the trees and bunnies.

It is an active solitude 

where I converse with God. 

Seeking guidance for my many steps,

I maintain my strength of body.

This is how I move forward into a new day.

Yes, this is me.

Then the words…

They call to me.

We are friends most of the time.

Metaphors and beauty, insights –

beckon me to the page.

Another tether to my soul formed.

Writing is an intimate action which

enables me, lifts me, soothes me.

Inspiration has become a cherished friend.

Absolutely. This is me.

I am acquainted with grief and pain.

My heart has been broken many times.

My body has failed me.

I have endured,

grown.

My wounded places have

transformed into fertile places.

I cultivate this inner garden of earned wisdom

by extending myself to others who similarly suffer,

trip, and find themselves on holy ground.

Yes. Me.

And finally, I can envision her…

a graceful, beautiful and wise woman

with silky silver hair and a sparkle in her eyes.

She is wrinkled in some places –

Soft in others.

This soul has a glow about her 

which lights up a room with love and grace.

She is my north star.

Each day I make my way to her.

Moment by moment she is created

through my open present heart

and daily choices.

I allow her to emerge.

Copyright@Cynthia Cady Stanton, July 2022

Photo by Vlada Karpovich on Pexels.com

Poem · Poetry

A Proper Sorting and Tossing

I take it in,

all the goodness

I can wrap myself around.

I take it in,

and I hold it dear.

I let it crowd and smother

the junk that remains 

from all past hurts and loss.

I push these out and out.

There is no time for clinging to old hurts.

There is only room

for the good things.

So I sweep and dust,

sort and toss.

I keep a tidy home

in this heart of mine.

No matter the weather outside,

despite all storms and struggle

which rattle the windows,

no matter any darkness looming,

nothing is glued to me

but that which nurtures and lightens.

Whatever is not worth keeping

passes through me

as if through a window.

Of course I see it as it passes…

I do notice the unpleasant winds

and the damage they can produce –

but I don’t let them blow me over.

There is plenty else to own,

to cherish,

to foster.

These things are knit to the bone

so I can remain steady on my feet.

Growing older grants this 

wisdom of discernment.

I finally know

how to welcome the light that shows up –

even if it is just a flicker.

This is what I take in and cradle with tenderness.

This is how I shine from within

and build resilience.

Copyright@Cynthia Cady Stanton, June 2022

Examine everything carefully; hold fast to that which is good.

1 Thessalonians 5: 21

I realize there’s something incredibly honest about trees in winter, how they’re experts at letting things go.

Jeffrey McDaniel
Photo by SHVETS production on Pexels.com
Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

On The Wing of The Breath

Create some wind.

No matter what swirls around you,

add some air to it.

Whether it is a sigh 

or a deep gulp,

get it going.

Don’t get caught in the holding of your inner breezes.

This only creates pain…

Life is born in and through us

and it is only on the wing of our precious breath

that we can unfold and float

among the mountains and valleys.

This is what breathing is –

working with life.

And working with life,

is why we are here.

Copyright@Cynthia Cady Stanton, April 2022

Uncategorized

In The Space of Silence

When I remember to take a breath,

to stop,

to get quiet,

it’s as if my eyes automatically open more.

I can see the details…

the robins digging for worms,

the leaves fluttering in the breeze,

the expression lines deepening

on the face of my beloved.

It is the quiet

that wakes me up.

With no noise to distract me,

I can also find the words.

Somehow the container of my heart

has permission to open,

spilling out with the cry of prayer

and the lyrics of grace.

I hear my own speech, and

in that listening,

I realize

I have become quiet enough

to be held by it all.

All this…

in the space of silence –

this place I call 

my home.

Copyright@CynthiaCady Stanton.com

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

In The Right Light

In the right light,

the morning greets me

with the kind of hope needed

to float joyfully into the day.

I start with a smile

lit from within.

In the right light,

my elderly cat appears like a

kitten resting after deep play.

As the rays of sunshine he bathes in

shimmer across his gray coat,

they seem to hide how frail

he really is.

In the right light,

the emerging silver threads

on my head

bring a sparkle to my deep blue eyes,

revealing the gift

of my earned evolution

and the power of being seen.

In the right light,

all life is art –

and all its shades,

all its colors, shapes, and textures,

all the broken and joined lines,

seem to form words –

the ones that matter.

They speak louder to me

these days.

In the right light,

the trail ahead appears

clear and illuminated

for the distance.

It’s never ending

but in the good way –

the way that comforts.

The invitation to proceed

feels safe and important.

In the right light,

the wounded places within

become fertile ground

which, when thoughtfully nurtured,

produce fresh verdant growth

that is quite beautiful.

Noticing this deepens

my breathing and presence

in my life.

In the right light,

the dim of dusk

brings a glow

which kisses everything.

The quality of this light

forms speech which calls to me…

“Come on home, Sweet One. You have done well.

It is time to rest now. Tomorrow we begin again together.”

The light can change everything.
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

If light is in your heart, you will find your way home.

Rumi

Copyright@CynthiaCadyStanton.com, Feb. 2022

Uncategorized

A Deeper Listening

As a baby poet,

and a lover of writing,

the words that arrive

seemed to flow effortlessly

for a time.

When I dared to take those

first steps

that one day in a coffee shop,

and my love – after reading the results –

and to my surprise –

proclaimed me a poet,

I blossomed so fully

and beautifully

into joy and purpose.

I shined from the inside out,

blessed by having been seen.

This is what happens

when one is in the flow,

the wellsprings of artful expression.

But lately,

I find myself in the driest season of all.

This dehydration and loss of the words

has begun to hurt.

I feel it in the tightness of my voice –

a constipation in manifestation…

of engagement in my gifts.

So where did those waters of life go?

There is still a heart in me

that longs to speak.

There is still a soul

that seeks to inspire.

There is still a desire

to connect artfully

and with meaningful impact –

not out of a need for praise,

but of a soul-drive to be helpful –

to connect to our common humanity.

But here I am.

Thirsty for the words

and waiting to be quenched

by the flow

which glows through me.

It has been a season

of healing and grief for me.

There has been a deep dive

into all the embodied pain

I have been carrying –

lugging around through life

unwittingly.

The drag of it all

has finally caught up with me.

I have been brought to my knees

to find a profound humility.

Now that I am getting back on my feet again,

and on sacred ground,

feeling healed and graced

with a deeper listening to life,

I sense the presence of inspiration again.

She whispers softly,

but with an urgency

that deepens my attention.

So the words are starting to spring forth gently.

I know I must share them –

for I know they are needed

for the many who thirst longingly

just like me.

My heart begins to pour them out

as I enter the flow

once again.

Copyright@cynthiacadystanton.com, Jan. 2022

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Uncategorized

Beyond Solitude

When the chill of being alone

is knitted to the bone,

I long for you,

my friend.

It is too easy to feel capable

of navigating this life

in a solitary way –

to convince myself that

all is well,

and I am fine –

strong and muscled

in all the right places.

But as my bones begin to creak and groan,

and my sturdy stride weakens,

I feel my empty hand hungry

for your grasp.

Life does not want us to be alone.

And now as I sit 

in the cold and dark,

the chill in my heart whispers,

“You need someone next to you to 

warm this bleak contraction –

for there is no valor in enduring isolation.”

I sigh the kind of sigh that has the breath of the ocean within it…

and realize my need of a companion-

Being competent is not enough anymore,

and does not warm the soul

like a shared laughable moment would.

It’s friends who bring the warmth

with the their love and care,

and also the light which

illuminates and heals.

A good friend walks side by side with you –

a better friend helps you see more

along the way…

They provide the mirror you need

for your own evolution.

And so, the time for reaching out is here.

The confining walls fall away –

and this pressing question reaches my lips:

Where are you?

Copyright @Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2021

Uncategorized

Just Me, the Stars, and Hope

I like to get up before the sun does.

It is a kind of race

to greet the day first, for

being alone in the stillness of the morning

fuels me.

When I walk in the quiet

of my slumbering neighborhood,

and I can look up at the moon

and the stars,

and feel the crisp morning air

on my sleepy skin,

I am like a wakening flower bud.

I open to the promise

of a new day –

of being in fresh light.

I am a rare creature, I know.

Few would take the covers off so early

to brave the chill.

But me? I just get some coffee in me,

bundle up, and go.

It is the most liberating time of my day –

for yesterday has been filed away…

and it is just me, the stars,

and hope.

So, I lift up my voice

and sing, joining the bird chorus

as the glow begins to dawn.

This is what morning energy does for me.

I move forward through the dark and

rise with the sun.

It is a kind of practice, you see.

If I can dance my way through the dark

feeling safe and happy,

then I have mastered the power

of self-transcendence.

I have learned to let go,

and relax into the flow of life.

It is a kind of cleanse

that reminds me that I am actually

free to be –

and no loss or regret

can keep me under the covers

for very long.

Copyright @ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2021

Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart, and you will never walk alone.

Gerry and the Pacemakers
Photo by Matheus Bertelli on Pexels.com