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 · 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

I Can See Who You Are

We hustle.

We bustle.

We cover up.

We avoid.

In the constant press forward,

the moments are lost.

When able to still ourselves,

we can catch glimpses of 

what is real.

I sat with a patient,

one of the sweet ones

with dementia.

Her eyes alive

with love and openness…

Her speech cute and senseless

most of the time.

I am present to her

and focus on being –

instead of doing.

When the time for goodbye comes,

I touch her shoulder

and lean in.

Her eyes widen

as these words spill forth

in clarity and affection:

           “I can see who you are!”

Grace finds me

and I am blessed by her glimpse.

I am reminded…

I am Love.

Copyright@ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

As We Grow

As we grow,

we broaden.

An infant sees only

what is right in front of them –

their vision limited

to what is within the fish bowl.

An older person

can see beyond the protection

of those early limits…

This is the gift of wisdom.

Wisdom sees what is

and what is beyond –

its vision, earned.

Its gift,

one of liberation.

Wisdom’s glow may be hidden

under a weathered face

and broken body…

but it is present,

and lights with warmth

within the older heart.

So, dare not to discount

the mature among you…

for ignoring that inner glow,

is a loss akin to

walking past a beautiful sunset

on a gorgeous day

and missing the message

written in the sand

below your feet.

When a mature one

crosses your path,

let wisdom arise

and bless you.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

Holy, Holy

Not one of us is perfect.

Not one of us is fully formed.

We are but buds on the stem,

and wobbly saplings,

with thirsty roots –

searching for ground.

Every day,

we come up short in some way.

We offend our intentions, 

allowing the pain within

to attach more deeply.

Our path is littered with

all we have dropped,

despite all the trying

on the way to perfect.

To heal,

we turn around,

and gaze upon the lessons…

We pick them up,

one at a time,

and lift them to our heart.

In the lifting, we proclaim:

Holy, holy.

Holy, holy.

Now touched by grace,

we can turn around, facing forward –

and begin again –

reminded of what it feels like

to be held.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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