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
Becoming and Beholding 