Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

God’s Reach

 

Sometimes I feel as if

I am in a favorite pocket of yours.

Once and a while, 

you reach in and touch me –

and I am remembered again.

You may adjust me a bit,

smoothing my edges and

moving me about inside the pocket,

your touch comforting 

as you bring me to new places

for my learning.

 

When the moment is right,

you lift me up and out

and I feel the rush of freedom knitted with

the warmth of grace

as you hold me in your hand.

You look at me,

and I look at you.

And I remember again 

what home feels like.

Then you place me back

into your pocket

for easy reaching later.

 

I am your treasure

and in your keeping –

you keep me safe from harm.

One day, I know

your lift up

and into the light

will mean I get to stay.

My vision will be clear then

and so will my reflection

of you.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

This One Life

 

You see, to live

one must do these things:

like a bird about to take flight,

one must believe it is possible –

that our wings can be trusted.

When happy, allow it to be!

Share your happy face and glow

as created to do so.

When sad, embrace being seen as sad –

and surrender to the hug of compassion

packaged in sweet understanding and growth.

The struggles will come and go.

The secret is to surf the highs and lows

and learn to fall gracefully 

and repeatedly.

There will always follow

chances to rise up again courageously.

We are here to love.

It is that simple –

and, also that complicated.

For most of us have learned

to turn away from the divine imprint

which shows us how to love

and accept our differences.

Remember that the journey of grace

is more inward

than outward.

We lose our layers of skin

and find peace in the presence

of this one moment.

We discover a deeper belonging.

We understand that we already have it all.

This is the amazing glimpse that,

when captured,

enables us to be the beautiful souls we are.

We can let go.

We can be free.

We can choose joy.

Copyright©Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

 

“Strange as it may seem today to say, the aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.”  – Henry Miller

 

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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

Your Embrace

No amount of coffee

can awaken this soul

to quicken its attention.

I am looking for you again, my God.

The mysteries of my path,

unfolding in excruciating ease.

I long for answers.

 

It helps when I remember

the times I have visited this landscape before.

You have always been next to me –

your hand in mine,

gently leading.

In rare glimpses you point the way –

but your respect for me usually

allows my own stumble forward.

 

Mostly, it helps to be held.

To embrace the mysteries

in the comfort of your arms

feels like the home

you made for me.

I am a baby looking for your eyes

as you love me.

Copyright@Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Catching Myself

 

There you are.

I see you now in the burst of the flower,

the color yellow blessing my eyes

with new and fresh joy.

Instantly, the lift is back

and I rest in the wonder of Presence.

My heart quickens with the reminder that

you are everywhere…

ready to be seen with

a never-ending invitation to

wakefulness.

I am finally learning how

the one who leaves

is never you.

You are as close as my in breath –

that breath that gets neglected

in the constant pant

of unnecessary busyness.

When I catch my breath,

I catch you. 

 

Life is always instructing me.

Just yesterday, I read these words:

              Worry is a misuse of imagination.

It was just the right message at

just the right time.

I am glad I noticed it.

It could have just slipped past me…

and it made me question

what else I might have missed

along the way…

I thank you for these reminders.

So simple they are

once grasped.

I realize once again,

and repeatedly,

that you are never far away

and that the barriers

to my learning and freedom

are of my own creation.

There is no blame for this –

I do understand.

As blame is just another unhelpful distraction –

another layer blocking me from you.

 

To live this precious life,

I must stop piling on the layers

so I can unfold into the naked beauty

of a fully bloomed flower

basking in the glow of the sun.

And where you are,

so will I be.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

We Are Needed

 

It takes just a moment

to pause and let go –

to notice.

Presence always waits patiently for us.

She is found in the smallest of things…

 

The slow drip of water 

off a rock

which holds the riverbank in place….

Presence is there.

 

The thought that gives birth to the word that spawns a tear…

Yes.  There.

 

In that moment between

the reach of your hand

to the lifting of another –

Or when the homeless man 

catches your eye and

a generous smile blooms…

There!

 

How short our time is!

We squander Presence like we waste water…

We forget to look,

to hear the slow drip,

to speak the unspoken word.

We get lonely in this poverty

of connection.

 

Sad, isn’t it?

This slip of a rose through the grasp of our fingers.

We ignore the dropped flower

and miss out on the bouquet,

the colors…

And then we grieve the loss of 

a flower to cheer us –

it’s brilliance unwitnessed.

 

Love is like this , too.

It can hide beneath.

 

So, let’s elevate the 

Presence and the Love, too.

For without them,

we aren’t even here.

And we are so needed.

 

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

That Part of Me

 

My heart is working hard these days

with loss and loneliness.

I am an orphan seeking home. 

The grief of moving through the landscape which

is my life

tugs at the ways I have 

stitched myself together.

This waking up is painful –

but as I move forward,

I open my heart to it.

 

It is a time of deepening –

of allowing the mystery to instruct

and show me

the location of my true belonging.

The older I get,

the more acquainted I am

with this type of deep reckoning.

It is familiar terrain and

I have visited it often.

When I look back, I can see this.

But in this moment, 

choosing to be present

feels like valor.

 

I gradually take on the challenge

as little pieces of me mend.

I begin to hear again the 

warm and forgiving invitation.

It calls to me like

a song over the hillside,

sending music to my ears and heart.

I allow this embrace of mystery which

wells up within my very soul.

This is the place which

connects me to the beauty of it all

and the realization of belonging.

I find my way home again

and I learn to dwell in a sweet peace.

I dare to hold everything –

all the precious pain and longing.

Thanksgiving visits me –

I am surprised as it wells up like a wave

and invites me to rest in a beautiful tenderness.

This is Life and Grace

given and received.

They had never left.

 

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

“Secret work is being done in us of which we have no inkling.”  John O’Donahue

 

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

The Heart of It All

 

The hand that grasps and controls

is the same hand

that lets go.

 

The mind that sorts and decides

is the same mind  

that can be opened by mystery

or pain.

 

The eyes that do not really see

but look past,

are the same ones

that can catch the vision

of truth.

 

We are but soft clay

yet we act as if cast in stone –

armored in our ways.

But life is not done shaping us.

Changes always come to

meet us where we are

and show us another way.

 

The time for invocation is here.

So lift up your sad, stiff heart –

mistakenly broken by you alone –

and ask Life to soften it.

For the heart of it all,

it seems,

is to be anchored in softness –

so you can be ready for anything.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

When the Poems Do Not Arrive

When the poems do not arrive,

it is time to sit and quiet.

Rest is needed

so trust in Life can

bubble up for expression

and flow in a new way.

 

When the poems do not arrive

and the wings of inspiration

do not lift and lighten,

one must look within with honesty.

Where are the blocks?

When found, raise them up

and bless them.  

Be grateful for the freedom they bring

when discovered and set aside.

 

When the poems do not arrive,

grieve a little and

then let go.

For there is no one to blame.

This is not about you.

There is only understanding

waiting for the dawn.

It always comes.

 

When the poems do not arrive,

be patient.

For when Presence returns,

so will the words that illuminate it.

 

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

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Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Big Love

 

When one of us is lost,

all that is needed is the touch of another

whether to tender skin or the wounded heart.

For none of us are perfectly on track

all the time, are we?

So we help one another to steer and soften.

 

When one of us is sick,

it is time for a cup of Big Love –

we fill it with grace mixed with empathy

so the sickness cannot take root,

causing the soul to wither,

in a feeling of aloneness.

 

If disconnection broadens, 

it is time to seek your teacher –

that wiser one who loves as God loves,

without measure, and

 while nurturing the current lesson to birth.

A good teacher mirrors your imminent Spring 

as you struggle to blossom

and see.

 

This is what Big Love looks like –

its embrace feels like freedom on the wing.

Its presence is grace realized

as sibling souls open and

reach out to you,

sparking Truth and Light

so you can be healed.

 

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

 

Photo credit to Gary Stanton, my husband, who also gave me the mug recently when I was sick – the inspiration for this poem.  Thank you, Honey!  xoxo

 

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