Poem · Poetry

Giving Voice

When a situation suddenly

and without expectation –

turns

in a healing direction,

your heart wants to sing.

For you had lost hope,

and could not see

what you could do to

help.

And here it is –

the needed change

on the way…

The joy of it is

bright.

Your gratitude starts to bubble

up.

It starts deep in your stomach,

then springs to your heart –

opens it wide,

and sets it on fire.

Next, it flies up through your vocal chords,

making sweet vibrations.

It is a song that

must be sung.

So, on the wings of a grateful

heart,

your song passes

through your lips and

dances off your tongue:

“I SEE YOU.”

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Poem · Poetry

Go Gently

 

Here I go again,

getting lost in the tangle of

outward motivations which

lead me away –

like an excited child

pulling on my arm –

Come this way!

But my wisdom within says,

 Not so fast.

 You have been here before, remember?

We play this game over and over

until finally,

we are done playing.

We are ready for change.

Like Jacob wrestling with the angel,

we finally get blessed with divine insight

into who we are,

and the exhaustion of repeated patterns

falls away.

Here is the truth of it all:

we come to God

through suffering or wisdom –

and sometimes both.

Most of the time,

we create our own suffering.

So, my child,

Learn to trust your

inner light.

You were born with it,

and it waits for you to listen

to its guidance.

Be patient with how it flickers

until you are ready

for its full shining.

Go gently on your path,

and keep your eyes open.

Forgive your missteps along the way.

Just keep moving forward.

And whatever you do,

do not close.

For your light cannot shine,

if your shades are drawn

and you will keep tripping in your darkness.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018

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Processed with VSCO with a6 preset

 

Poem · Poetry

Finding the Poem

 

It comes in the quiet of the morning,

or sometimes on a walk among the trees.

Like a tender bud,

it germinates inside my heart,

until it must be born.

I write

because this process

brings me closer to God –

to the very spark of life

within me.

I write

because when I do,

I am blessed with the very Presence

I seek every moment.

I write

because my restless soul

comes alive when my words

enliven a page.

I write

because it touches you,

and in sharing my voice,

my purpose is born.

I write,

because I must.

Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018laptop and writing

Poem · Poetry

Blank Page

Facing a blank page

waiting for inspiration

is akin to the early morning hours –

when no one else is up,

not even the sun.

Its newness and freshness

has a daunting yet hopeful quality.

I simply love the mornings.

And now I am learning to love

the empty page.

Just like each day,

there are times

when I falter,

filling the white space with nonsense

and disappointing myself.

But when creativity shows up,

when I am engaged in the flow

of divine connection,

nothing else matters.

I have found Presence

once again.

If only each moment

could be like this!

And then I remember,

yes.

Each moment can.

I just need to stay awake

and get out of my own way.

Copyright@ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017

blank page

Poem · Poetry

Under the Weather

 

Nothing like a virus

to help you appreciate

normal breathing.

Wheeze, sputter

blow, cough.

Normal comes to a stop.

Voice exercises?

Ha!

Good luck with that.

My pipes are clogged –

making my voice

sound like a cat about

to hurl a hairball.

Hydrate, hydrate.

Rest and sleep –

Being sick sucks.

I am not good

at slowing down –

interrupting my patterns.

I prefer to stay on track

to be in my well-crafted groove.

Huh.

Damn.

Maybe that is the point.
More tea, Honey?

 

Copyright © Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017

 

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Poem · Poetry

Infant Poet

 

It is the strangest thing

when a poem takes over.

Kidnapped by it,

sometimes it lifts me above

to broaden my view –

or it can

lean me forward

with such focus,

everything else falls away

except the nub of it all.

 

Expanding and contracting,

I breathe the poem

and it breathes me.

We are one,

locked in a gentle tussle

until it is time

for the poem to be born.

 

I never thought of myself

as a poet.

It feels like a gift

given to an infant –

like a mobile hanging above a crib,

like a toy

to keep me busy

and broaden my senses –

to show me who I am

and help me

find my words.

There is an awkwardness –

but also,

deep joy

and a radiance that

nourishes.

 

I have come to rely

on my poems.

They are a gift

akin to the blessing

of having a loving parent

whose embrace

shows me the way.

 

Copyright © Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017

 

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Poem · Poetry

Singing a New Song

Not sure how it happened

whether it was gradual

or sudden.

I wish I could remember

the moment it all changed –

when my voice no longer matched

the person that I am.

Suddenly,

it hurt to speak –

not only physically,

but existentially.

It has been a painful five years.

Do you know what it is like

to hate the sound of your own voice?

To feel the inward disdain

and embarrassment?

To see the expressions of others change

when you dare to speak?

To bravely express yourself despite it all

and then to feel the pain of faulty speech patterns?

It has a way of shutting a person up,

holding you back.

But now I have hope again,

hope of a voice that sings effortlessly,

a voice that is a joy to listen to,

lilting and silky,

warm and welcoming –

powerful in its message and impact,

comforting and present.

I have hope of healing

the incongruence

of who I am and how I sound.

You see,

I have all this love in my heart

and a soul that needs expression.

Now that I am getting real help with my voice problem,

my whole life is opening up

to what I can be and do

as a beneficial presence for others.

Let the healing commence.

I am in!

Copyright © @ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017

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