Poetry of Cynthia Gail Manor, B.A.
Montopolis, Austin, Texas
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I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord. Psalm 121:1-2
List of Selections
Click on links below
Dune
Home
Eye of the Storm
Woman of God
God Is
When I Get Tired (2010)
Dune
Barren.
The sands stretch
sunward
mottled by the footsteps
of God’s anointed.
The hush of ancient prophets
settles on the night
as the whirlwinds die down,
their prayers fall down like manna
to nourish the seemingly hapless traveler,
where the only clarity
is unrelenting loneliness—
debased folly and pride,
phantom dreams,
darting between cries
answered only
by their echoes against the dunes,
“Abba, Father, why have you forsaken me?”
“…Why have you forsaken me?”
The same plain crossed
by Moses and his children
I must now sojourn,
to be purified in the heat,
peeled and sculpted
by the Master Potter
that I may hear only His voice
and bear his calling for me.
(2009)
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Home
The sands have sifted
Back and forth
And through the sieve of time,
Through sun and storms,
Elation and affliction,
And now we are
Face to face,
Locked in an embrace—
Daughter beholding Father,
Father beholding Child,
Unfamiliar
Yet strongly familiar,
And now I know
You’ve watched me from birth
And held me in your care
Without me knowing it,
Watching for your
Prodigal daughter
To return to the place of light
Where she was born.
Face to face
I see myself
Reflected in your perfect love
And forgiveness,
And now, after all these years,
I am ready to follow you,
For in this world
There is no comfort
Like that which I see
In your eyes,
No fulfillment in all my journeys,
Except I see my future
In your eyes.
There is no other way
But through You—
The Way,
The Truth,
And the Life.
I will take your hand
And follow You
All the days
Of my life.
(2007)
Back to Top
Eye of the Storm
Behold,
He comes in peace
to those that sojourn
in the storm,
whose lives have been tossed
to and fro
in the sad undulation
of day and night,
day and night,
a seemingly endless
cacophony
of hopes lost,
dreams dashed.
He comes to allay
the wiles of the devil
and restore dreams
to the lofty places
from whence they fell,
and to plant each
forlorn tear
in his heavenly garden
to give birth to
Hope
Faith
Strength
Patience,
showering them with
His Light
And enduring Love
Which abates the travails
Of tribulation
And fulfills
The fruits of the Spirit.
(2007)
Back to Top
Woman of God
Based on Proverbs 31:10-31
She rises in the cool of the morn
while stars are still in the sky
and dresses herself with
the armor of God—
girding herself with Truth,
the breastplate of Righteousness,
the gospel of Peace
the shield of Faith
the helmet of Salvation,
and the sword of the Spirit,
for she is a warrior priestess,
a princess of the Almighty,
a force to be reckoned with.
She anoints her household
with praise and prayer
and her loved ones call her Blessed.
She goes out
ministering to the weak and weary,
and bearing their sorrows
with patience and strength,
clothing them with the love of God
and feeding them the Good News.
Her voice is as the Songs of the Psalms,
enlightening all who hear,
for on her lips are wisdom and kindness,
tempered with the tenderness
only a woman can bestow.
Even as the Sun retires
she works to attire her household
with the spoils of her labor,
the meat of her sacrifice,
and the stars shine
on the sweat of her brow.
Behold, the night grows old
with her watch by candle light,
as her household rests
in the shadow of her virtue.
Who is like her,
this Woman of God,
that all the Heavens should smile
at her going out and coming in,
that the sun and stars
should revere her,
that she should be the envy of diamonds and pearls?
She is a Daughter of Abraham,
Lily of the Valley,
humble servant of the Most High
(2006)
Back to Top
God Is
Our Majesty,
from whom all mercies flow,
mercies as tender as satin,
deep as the universe.
Who can know them,
except he imbibe
the sweet and the dour,
juxtaposed in the order of battle
for the soul?
What joy you bring
in the morning
after the storms have raged
and the tears have fallen
all night.
Your joy sets like the morning star
over my soul,
as the sunlight across the high clouds,
and the birds trumpet your return.
What a friend we have,
who did not withhold
His only Son – His Beloved,
Who cried His Son’s tears
and transmuted His fears,
suffered as Mother
Father
all for his Love for us.
There is no other Love to compare,
for the Master’s heart
is pure and compassionate—
Nothing can separate us from the love of God,
And his mercy as is the waves of the sea—
From infinite to infinite,
As the rays of the rising sun,
Reaching into the loneliness
Of the mind
And illuminating it with the hope
Of a new day
And ever renewing Love.
(2006)
Back to Top
List of Selections
Click on links below
Dune
Home
Eye of the Storm
Woman of God
God Is
When I Get Tired (2010)
Dune
Barren.
The sands stretch
sunward
mottled by the footsteps
of God’s anointed.
The hush of ancient prophets
settles on the night
as the whirlwinds die down,
their prayers fall down like manna
to nourish the seemingly hapless traveler,
where the only clarity
is unrelenting loneliness—
debased folly and pride,
phantom dreams,
darting between cries
answered only
by their echoes against the dunes,
“Abba, Father, why have you forsaken me?”
“…Why have you forsaken me?”
The same plain crossed
by Moses and his children
I must now sojourn,
to be purified in the heat,
peeled and sculpted
by the Master Potter
that I may hear only His voice
and bear his calling for me.
(2009)
Back to Top
Home
The sands have sifted
Back and forth
And through the sieve of time,
Through sun and storms,
Elation and affliction,
And now we are
Face to face,
Locked in an embrace—
Daughter beholding Father,
Father beholding Child,
Unfamiliar
Yet strongly familiar,
And now I know
You’ve watched me from birth
And held me in your care
Without me knowing it,
Watching for your
Prodigal daughter
To return to the place of light
Where she was born.
Face to face
I see myself
Reflected in your perfect love
And forgiveness,
And now, after all these years,
I am ready to follow you,
For in this world
There is no comfort
Like that which I see
In your eyes,
No fulfillment in all my journeys,
Except I see my future
In your eyes.
There is no other way
But through You—
The Way,
The Truth,
And the Life.
I will take your hand
And follow You
All the days
Of my life.
(2007)
Back to Top
Eye of the Storm
Behold,
He comes in peace
to those that sojourn
in the storm,
whose lives have been tossed
to and fro
in the sad undulation
of day and night,
day and night,
a seemingly endless
cacophony
of hopes lost,
dreams dashed.
He comes to allay
the wiles of the devil
and restore dreams
to the lofty places
from whence they fell,
and to plant each
forlorn tear
in his heavenly garden
to give birth to
Hope
Faith
Strength
Patience,
showering them with
His Light
And enduring Love
Which abates the travails
Of tribulation
And fulfills
The fruits of the Spirit.
(2007)
Back to Top
Woman of God
Based on Proverbs 31:10-31
She rises in the cool of the morn
while stars are still in the sky
and dresses herself with
the armor of God—
girding herself with Truth,
the breastplate of Righteousness,
the gospel of Peace
the shield of Faith
the helmet of Salvation,
and the sword of the Spirit,
for she is a warrior priestess,
a princess of the Almighty,
a force to be reckoned with.
She anoints her household
with praise and prayer
and her loved ones call her Blessed.
She goes out
ministering to the weak and weary,
and bearing their sorrows
with patience and strength,
clothing them with the love of God
and feeding them the Good News.
Her voice is as the Songs of the Psalms,
enlightening all who hear,
for on her lips are wisdom and kindness,
tempered with the tenderness
only a woman can bestow.
Even as the Sun retires
she works to attire her household
with the spoils of her labor,
the meat of her sacrifice,
and the stars shine
on the sweat of her brow.
Behold, the night grows old
with her watch by candle light,
as her household rests
in the shadow of her virtue.
Who is like her,
this Woman of God,
that all the Heavens should smile
at her going out and coming in,
that the sun and stars
should revere her,
that she should be the envy of diamonds and pearls?
She is a Daughter of Abraham,
Lily of the Valley,
humble servant of the Most High
(2006)
Back to Top
God Is
Our Majesty,
from whom all mercies flow,
mercies as tender as satin,
deep as the universe.
Who can know them,
except he imbibe
the sweet and the dour,
juxtaposed in the order of battle
for the soul?
What joy you bring
in the morning
after the storms have raged
and the tears have fallen
all night.
Your joy sets like the morning star
over my soul,
as the sunlight across the high clouds,
and the birds trumpet your return.
What a friend we have,
who did not withhold
His only Son – His Beloved,
Who cried His Son’s tears
and transmuted His fears,
suffered as Mother
Father
all for his Love for us.
There is no other Love to compare,
for the Master’s heart
is pure and compassionate—
Nothing can separate us from the love of God,
And his mercy as is the waves of the sea—
From infinite to infinite,
As the rays of the rising sun,
Reaching into the loneliness
Of the mind
And illuminating it with the hope
Of a new day
And ever renewing Love.
(2006)
Back to Top
When I Get Tired
When the night draws out
Like a comet’s trek
Into the vast unknown.
Questions are answered
By the winks of a clock
3:16 a.m.
4:08 a.m.
And tears soak into
A pillow
Yielding no solace
no mercy.
When the windows
I have crafted and stained
To protect my precarious world,
Are shattered by hail,
And blindness succumbs to disillusion,
Illusion to resignation.
When smiles become inverted daggers,
A handshake coils to a fist
And facades are melted by smoldering contempt,
Unveiling wolves in sheep’s clothing.
When I have become invisible,
My humanity an afterthought,
And doors are slammed,
Traps are laid,
The millstone made ready to sink me.
When I get tired
I lift up my eyes
To the stars above the hills and darkness
Beyond the contrary waters
That sift and stir
The limits of my faith,
I reach out from the rubble
And grasp the Master Carpenter’s hand,
He wipes my tears
and girds my wounds
with the hem of his garment.
From every tear
That lay deeply soaked
In a pillow or teddy bear,
He resurrects a lily
And plants each
in the fractures of my heart.
He covers my eyes
With the potter’s clay
and rinses it with his blood,
renewing the vision he prepared for me
long before my birth.
He extinguishes every tongue
Set ablaze with blasphemy
And from the ashes
Resurrects my name and dignity
To strike fear and bewilderment
In the heart of every enemy
That he avenges the cries and afflictions
Of his children.
Though weeping may endure
through many nights
and raging storms,
and loneliness bear upon my shoulders
waiting for me to fall,
I am never alone
or beyond the grasp of my Savior’s mercy,
for he has cried
the tears I cry,
carried his cross and mines.
(2010)
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