Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Homecoming

 

When walking next to the shore,

take in the salted air.

It tastes like your tears.

 

When walking next to the shore,

listen to the music of the surf.

It is the soundtrack of the movement in your heart.

 

When walking next to the shore,

watch the swoop and dance of the Plover birds.

They effortlessly play in the waves,

undaunted by the constant changes beneath their tiny feet.

Witness the lesson.

 

A walk by the ocean

is always a homecoming.

The whispers heard soothe the soul.

The sprays felt baptize us anew.

We are reminded that

sometimes we need to get wet

to begin again.

So take a walk on the beach.

Hear the invitation of its dynamic landscape:

               Let’s be the ocean together.

 

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2019

You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean in a drop. – Rumi

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Poem · Poetry

The Opening

It is the space between
what I hear
and how I receive it.

It is the time between
what I think
and what I do.

It is the moment of rest
I sometimes allow
before the next thing.

This is the place that needs enlarging.
But I tend to keep it small,
even though it beckons me
with sweet whispers
and gentle nudges.

I hear it in the rhythm of the waves
and the rustle of the dancing leaves.
I see it in the glide of the seagulls
and the ballet of the small shorebirds
as they float across the shoreline.
Be like us,
they seem to say.
Float through your day.
It is easy
if you let go
and feel the flow.

The invitation is always there,
expansive and inviting –
a huge place of calm and beauty
waiting to hold me
with a comforting embrace.
Waiting to lead me
to the unimaginable.

But I am distracted.

I know I am not alone in this.

Thankfully,
Grace is a beautiful and patient teacher.
She has taught me many things.
I finally know that
You are in the space that calls.
You are in each breath –
especially the deep ones.
You are in me.
You are around me.
You work through me.
You need me as much as
I need you.

I have learned that turning away from you
and ignoring your sweet beaconing
is akin to a slow and lonely death.

Opening to You –
and the spaces between,
is like coming home
to who I am.

plovers in flight

Copyright© 2017 Cynthia Cady Stanton