Tag: writing
Short and Sweet
To be a poet,
wake up with wings poised to
float on your morning breath.
Let your eyes open as windows
that God may see.
Turn on the inner flame
and alight the senses.
Choose to be the love
you seek to understand.
Be watchful as
the words arrive
and sing faithfully
from the heart of your soul.
Surrender to how
they change you
as the poem
is born.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
Word Provider
Often when I sit to write,
the decision is spontaneous.
I may be in my usual routine,
and then the urge bubbles up.
A thought comes…
Maybe I will write.
Then I simply position my fingers on the keyboard
and out it flows.
My head, heart, and fingers
are connected to that larger reality
that usually slips through the fingers.
It is an act of faith –
to put myself in the position
to be available
and receive.
I trust the words will come.
And when they do,
I am one with Inspiration
and being
me.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
Art and Gift
Loss For Words
When I have a moment
or three,
I like to sit
and light a candle.
I open my laptop
and position my hands…
my fingers are at the ready.
I wait for the words.
Sometimes they arrive
rather quickly.
Lately,
for reasons only my soul knows,
not so much.
I wonder why this is so.
It has been a challenging time
of late
with a health issue here –
relationship issues there…
My mind and heart
have been busy
and not in the good way –
the way of truth and inspiration.
My spiritual training teaches me
that my distractions of late
are just that –
DISTRACTIONS.
They have a quality of
friction –
and friction usually
rubs the wrong way.
It can also hurt and harm
when it keeps going
and the tender places
get wounded.
My task now
is to reorient myself.
It is time to surrender
in faith
and allow myself to be lifted
out and beyond
anything that keeps me
from being
who I really am.
It is time to heal.
So, no more scratching the itch
of all that seems
to be rubbing –
keeping me focussed
on the discomforts of life
that are not real.
Instead, I will mindfully
let go of all that.
It is time to step aside
from the personal
and be here wholeheartedly
as a channel for the divine –
to be a beneficial presence.
What could possibly be better?
It takes practice –
and attention –
moment to moment.
This is not what we are taught
but it is available to us
as the literal,
ANSWER-
the one we all seek.
I speak the truth.
The fact I know that
means I am on my way…
So, here I go.
Perhaps this larger
expanse of view
will bring
my words back to me
so I can be helpful
to others
as the divine reaches
through everything I offer
as an expression
of divine love –
always available,
but not always seen.
It seems a beautiful endeavor.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
When I Am Not Writing
The babbling brook that
is the stream of life, passes
before me,
its eternal and purposeful movement,
effortlessly dancing –
its whispers inviting me
into the water.
I sit on the shore,
afraid to get wet –
mistaken by the idea
that in staying dry,
I can somehow
avoid the discomfort and uncertainty
of change –
when in actuality,
I am delaying my
ongoing baptism into Life.
In this moment,
I dip my toe back in.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
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, 2018
The Poems
You arrive as whispers
calling sweetly in my ear,
causing me to pause and ponder –
leading me forward.
It is like the dawning of hunger
when, no matter what I am doing,
I can think of nothing else.
The urgency must be addressed.
Words must be shaped,
voiced –
labored over and delivered.
Inspiration has called to me.
Each time she visits,
I come alive a little more.
I am born
again and again –
in a blanket of words.
Why me?
I sometimes wonder…
but I open to her, anyway –
and learn to surrender again
to her message
and to what is real.
The whole dance we do
creates a hunger
that builds.
I want more.
In the meantime,
I live the poems I have.
I hold them close to me –
with pregnant anticipation,
I wait for the others.
Copyright© Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2018
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
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
Becoming and Beholding 