Arms Tied Above My Head


There’s no diving into deeper waters with you, You are surface level, ankle deep, I cannot continue to feed this thing, Cause I only put out and I never receive

Like the eyes watching from underneath my bed, When I turn out the lights, you take over my head, and  I can’t do this, I’m spent

Tonight my thoughts won’t let me sleep, My voice won’t speak, But the silence screams

I pace the floors. Knowing for sure That there isn’t a cure

You’ve got a hold on me, my codependency, And I can’t break free

Because I like my arms tied above my head, I like when you grab my throat just a bit

Caught somewhere between ecstasy and abuse. You are the rope to my metaphorical noose

Pressure on my neck. Try to catch my breath  Before you kick the chair Out from under me again

I could fight and try to break loose

But instead I walk a little closer to you 

And tell you- you can have me however you choose

This is a cycle, My day to day  I get up ask how’s the weather,  babe

Inside I’m scheming bout the sun, the moon, the stars. Reading bout our ancestors and humanity’s collective scars

I’m channeling the wisdom of those gone before, I’m gathering their courage to fill up my jar  So I can drink it in and maybe move on

I pace the floors. Knowing for sure That there isn’t a cure

You’ve got a hold on me, my codependency, And I can’t break free

Because I like my arms tied above my head. I like when you grab my throat just a bit

Caught somewhere between ecstasy and abuse. You are the rope to my metaphorical noose

Pressure on my neck. Try to catch my breath  Before you kick the chair. Out from under me again

I could fight and try to break loose

But instead I walk a little closer to you 

And Tell you- you can have me however you choose

Written by: Stacy Johnson 7/8/19 (Mother cycle day 12)

Paper Near My Pen

I’ve never been more scared to have this paper near my pen

I cannot control the words pouring from my limbs

Sometimes my words are my tears

Then again, sometimes they’re my peers

See, if I let you read them, you can use them against me, you could beat me with my own bones, instead of just throwing stones

I like stones better, they just peel off my skin-that means you’re not using my own thoughts as the weapon…

If my bones are my words, then I’m built by them, and if I’m built by them, and you look in, then you can see how close I am to crumbling

I tell a different story from the outside looking in, And no one really knows in my mind what’s happening, Not until I sit down and put some paper near my pen

And if I let you in, you win

And if I let you in, you win

See, I’ve never been more scared to have this paper near my pen

Cause I cannot control the words pouring from my limbs…

Written By: Stacy Johnson 7-4-19 (maiden/mother day 10)

Belly of the Whale

Put down the crosses you’re carrying

They weren’t ever yours to hold
Someone placed that thought in You if the truth be told

But

You are enough just being you
And when you’ve had enough
You can be someone new

Keep on pushing

Keep on losing

Any path that wasn’t your choosing

You need to exhale, need to befriend your doubt
Cause you can’t fill up what’s never been without

Sink down into your unbecoming
Float in the sea of the unknowing

Cause in the deep
The tomb does its work

And it’s there in the quiet
resurrection leads to a birth

Do you understand what I’m trying to say
Its a glorious darkness inside the grave

From the belly of the whale it’s a slow escape
but you can learn to enjoy the burn of a dimly lit flame
Only if you let a fire lead the way

Of those gone before you who lit up their torches
Of those who beat down the path so that you could now forge this

Follow their lead, come alongside me

Together we can come up for air, together we can learn to breathe

We’ll burn down the bridges, we’ll untie the strings

No puppet, no master, just a reckoning

In the belly of the whale, I set myself free What kind of savior throws his child out to sea? Only one who is setting up a false delivery

Don’t ask us to be what wasn’t meant to be
In the belly of the whale, I chose me

——————Nineveh can wait til I’m ready

Written by Stacy Johnson 6/29/19 (cycle day 5 crone)

Grow from Me

What will I become?
Buried under earth, dirt
Consciousness gone, but perhaps a rebirth

I do not know-I cannot say
Don’t ever tell me to believe your way

Our ancestors buried their dead
Curled up-fetal, knees to chest

Hoping like seeds give way to flowers
For a regeneration from the Earth’s womb powers

For us to return in some beautiful state
Where our life is built on the lessons we take

Like those before, let vultures chew to my bones
Strip me right down to my internal stones

Paint me red, like blood from the womb
Grant me the solace of a cosmological tomb

Resting in the form of the way I became
Atoms, molecules, cells, a Name

Earth Water Fire Wind—-stones hold their magic, cover me with them 

Maybe earth’s pulse will warm the marrow inside
And evolve me slowly from matter to mind

What will I become?
Buried under earth, dirt
Consciousness gone, but perhaps a rebirth

Written by Stacy Johnson (June 24, 2019. Cycle Day 29 WW)

The Temple of Me

~~~~~~~~A poem about where I’m at as a newly-turned 35 year old!!~~~~~~~~

THE TEMPLE OF ME

Looking across my body, a mosaic of sea glass tops my skin,
And I ask you now to sit with me and
Drink me in,
Drink me in,
Drink me in

My eyes are still that vibrant green, holding sparkling light within.
No, those aren’t crows feet, that’s where Sophia left Her print.
Can you handle who I am now and
Drink me in,
Drink me in,
Drink me in

There’s this thinking crease across my forehead, and it makes me share a grin,
Cause once I thought I knew it all and you loved the woman in me then, but can you make more room to love the woman I’m becomin’?
Won’t you come and sit with me and
Drink me in,
Drink me in,
Drink me in

My smile still lights the blazes, of your direct attention, and those laugh lines now make their way up, to my dancing eyes within.
And I ask you to always make me laugh and
Drink me in,
Drink me in
Drink me in

Have you noticed my shoulders and arms are stronger, then they’ve ever been? Because I learned to carry the wounds of my sisters, of my fellow women.
Can you spare a minute to listen and
Drink me in,
Drink me in,
Drink me in

When You see my my bare breasts fireside, do you breathe praise for the flow they’ve given, how my very own body was the tree of life for our youngest children- take a moment and honor the sacred and
Drink me in,
Drink me in,
Drink me in

Now I have a softened tummy, rounded hips, and marked up skin, Call me your Goddess Persephone, I nourished your seed and brought about its blossomin’,
Can you sit and worship me for me and
Drink me in,
Drink me in,
Drink me in

And I’ve always had those legs you loved, they are strong but not thick or thin, and now they’ve carried 5 human lives, can you grasp the magnitude of my body’s benevolence?
Can you come and help me carry on and
Drink me in,
Drink me in,
Drink me

And I’ve manifested this rounded ass in my womanhood transfiguration, yes-she is bouncier now, than my teenage version. And you just cannot help but touch, you say she demands your concentration.
Will you always speak with adoration and
Drink me in
Drink me in
Drink me in

And when we’re in the shadows and you gaze upon my 35 year old skin, your eyes light up like candles and I think that’s my personal heaven. I am a divine being, made of earth-water-fire-and wind, and I deserve to be on your altar as you
Drink me in,
Drink me in,
Drink me in

Most of all, more than anything—-you’ve watched my mind and heart expand, and you listen attentively about my evolution that was completely unplanned.
But you don’t run off fearfully, you pour your cup, listen, and grin, and as you sip your coffee, you
Drink me in,
Drink me in,
Drink me in

By: Stacy Johnson, June 6-8, 2019
(Mother, cycle day 12-14)

‘Cept for when I do

Do I believe in an afterlife? No!!!

‘Cept for when I do….

When my grandmother’s voice from beyond the grave, finally breaks through

Do I believe in re-incarnation? No!! That is too silly,

‘Cept for when I do…

When I become aware of the thread that’s linking me to you

Do I believe I’ve lived past lives with lessons to behold? No!! That cannot be true,

‘Cept for when I do…

When my dreams come with future wisdom and I drink in the deja vu

Do I believe in the guidance of the fates beyond? No!!! I really, truly do not

‘Cept for when I do…

When every moment from my life has me standing here with you

Do I believe in soul ties, binding spirits quietly? No!!! And, I probably never will,

‘Cept for when I do…

When my sister sits across the country sharing the same story I just told too

Do I believe in magic by the light of the silvery moon? No!!! Absolutely not,

‘Cept for when I do…

When by its light I break the need to speak ANYTHING but my truth

Do I believe in spells and candle light to bring about something new? No!!! I never ever could,

‘Cept for when I do…

When as the candle flame burns away my energy is renewed

Do I believe in Signs from the Sun-the Moon-the Stars? No!!! That’s a bunch of whoopty whoo,

‘Cept for when I do

When it all aligns in perfect time to reflect my being from the expansive blue

Do I believe in Gods and Goddesses? No!!! HA! Blatantly false–I could never presume,

‘Cept for when I do

But only when our bodies unite and we give each other life from just us two

Do I believe in Logic and Reason? Yes!!! They will always always WIN,

‘Cept for when they ask me to silence my experiences within.

Written By: Stacy Johnson 6-1-19, (cycle day 7, maiden)

Time

Isn’t it strange how life is always changing, around the sun, we are rearranging,
But so perfectly in place each and every day that 24 hours is always the same.

And yet, I’m spinning, we’re spinning. And I’m flipping out, no wonder my head is so filled with doubt,
Life is happening on a cosmic merry-go-round.

I’m always twisting and twirling, saying, “slow this thing down,” 
but to my surprise there’s no way to get out.

So I sit here with that headache from those rides at the fair, the ones where you vomit into the thin spinning air.

I didn’t buy this ticket, I didn’t stand in a line, but somehow I’m on it and this ride is called Time….

It won’t stop, no!
Won’t even slow down,
but sometimes the rotation brings me back around,

To the places I’ve been, 
to the feelings I’ve felt, 
to the moments she left me to breathe and be still.

The moments she stepped out, 
so that I could take in
the magnitude of the situation
to replay them again.

She left me in childhood, when summer sun would not fade.

She left me and my sister in the yard when we played.

She left me in the school halls with newly learned facts.

She left me when I saw Him carrying his backpack.

She leaves me in moments when the passion is great.

She leaves when new life from my body greets its first days.

She leaves me when grief is so big that I must just lay.

She leaves me when pain etches it’s own pathways.

And though she leaves me quick, to slowly embrace,
She returns with a vengeance to pick up the pace.

For time must move faster with each year we age,
so that when the end comes, a blur is all we must face.

The haze from the people and places we’ve passed, unfocused for it was all spinning so fast.

Did you catch glimpses of the sun and sky, did you stop to take in the thoughts behind your eyes?

And then in an instant she decides to stand still 
and she whispers that she hopes your life was a thrill.

And with her departing, your brain hits rewind, 
and in one final breath you close your eyes,
and relive the whole ride of your twirling with Time.

By: Stacy Johnson, 5-1-19