When I Go

Sit with me when I go
Til deep in your bones you know
That I am gone

This is to help you lean into your grief
You will not find closure
There is no such thing

Take all the time you need
Watch me in my endless sleep
Letting all our memories
Drip down your cheeks

Remember my voice
And the way that I’d speak
Listen
You will still hear me

Touch my hair
Hold my hand
As I grow cold
It’ll help you understand

That I came and I went
And that its okay
That that was it
And you still greet the day

That’s how it should be
Time rolls along
with or without me

Take in the Sun
Behold the Moon
You too, will be here soon

I am not afraid
I am not alone
I am simply no more

Hold on to who I was
Let go of who I’ll never be

Send silent praise
That I’m a part of your history

You are the best parts of me
I am free
I am free

1-9-20 (mother)

Glass Jars, Moonlight, and Intention

It was the night of a final full moon-  the decade had been so long, 

She’d had enough, done calling all bluffs, time to sing her old new song 

So she stepped outside

And lit fire

To all the pages

All the phases

All the stages

All the faces

That didn’t serve her, and didn’t deserve her

Dropping them into to a jar made of glass

She watched as the water  turned from clarity to ash

Shattered.

Something within her broke. 

Held up her arms in the darkness and the smoke—

Yelled, “Moon-do your Work! 

Can’t take another minute of sitting with this hurt.”

Closed her eyes, closed the door, closed the blinds

Turned on reality, turned off the lies

Sometimes the words come, without having to try 

Then there she was, 15 year old me

Little blonde head, fairy wings, and big dreams

She said, “Stacy, you’re still me, and now you’re strong enough to set some boundaries. Only you can set you free.”

Climbed into my own baptismal bath

Soaking in the brokenness of the pain in my past,

Let the salty water, burn my wounds clean

Let the voices from within rectify me

I’m calling on you, You, the someone deep within

The one who holds the echos of my loved ones, my  friends

I’m calling on You, to come and give me the words

The courage

The boldness that screams

You don’t deserve this, and you never did

I’m calling on You, for gentle wisdom in my bones 

The kind that only comes when you refuse to throw stones

Help me be gentle, but HARSH

Leaving no room for longing in the dark

Help me speak every word with extreme accuracy

Leaving not a single gap for crazy-making

I have been silenced, but only we know

Time to break curses and time to let go

A thousand ancestors lifted me up out of the bath. Woundedness dripping off me, time to speak out the past

Leaving puddles of yesterday, down the wooden floor path, each drop holding memories of rage released on me in wrath

Yes, It was time enough, I was coming for me, Nobody else could do this work- if I were to ever be free

Didn’t need another soul, just the girl that I had been

Before I picked up his darkness and made it my friend

Phone rang. I began to speak,  Unveiling Every Action that’d ever hurt me

Like the glass jar soaking in the moonlight illuminating every burnt trait that I’d accepted in my life

The moonbeams read them out to me, so I spoke them loud and clear, And each time I said, “No More,” a wound would disappear 

Something spiritual was happening as I spoke my own worth over me, I was untangling the ethereal cord that had been attached from him to me

Finally, I could hand it back, Said, “I think this belongs to you.” I can try to help you unravel yourself

But I won’t carry it all for you, you’ll have to be the one to see this work through

I will not bear the weight of your wounds, I am not the reason for your pain

And all this  time instead of healing yourself You poured your poison into my veins

I’ve choked on it, drowned in it, trying to get myself back to me, trying to come up for air from the pools of rage you spew at me

And if you’ll admit that you need help, Then we can find who you’re suppose to be

Before you were wounded, before you had bruises, before darkness called your name

I will stand beside you, but YOU have to lean into your pain

And, I am not your pain. 

I. Am. Not. Your. Pain. 

But I can be your full moon clarity, And we’ll call each wound by name.  Call every single broken piece out until you are free from them,

We’ll watch every ash and ember that rises into the night, cause we know healing  comes when we set our intentions in the glow of the full moonlight. 

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)

‘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 journey in Time.

By: Stacy Johnson, 5-1-19

The Work of Clouds

I saw a cloud of splendor,
it was floating on a breeze.
I thought of its good fortune,
without a single aim to please.

It was just as it is,
no desire, expectation, or lean,
An elemental compound 
without a recollection of me.

I stood in awe of its color,
the blue, the gray, the green,
and as I looked upon it,
my pain within began to scream.

Oh, to be that cloud,
out of every person‘s reach.
Just suspended in forward motion
without the slightest thought of needs.

Then  I watched that cloud spill over
from fluff to angry beast, 
and in a few short moments 
the cloud shed tears as my reprieve.

Perhaps it was looking down
and saw a girl with a cloud all her own.
Then decided to rinse the gray from her, 
to strip her down to her gloom-soaked bones. 

Maybe the clouds can only 
make room for so much gray,
and after that they must unleash
for we both can’t stay that way.

So the cloud gave way to falling,
did the work of its heaviness.
And upon the on-looker below,
a cleansing downpour of tenderness.

I stood with heart wide open,
receiving what was nature’s drenching gift.
And with every drop that rolled off me,
my gray turned from its bitterness.

Fading from the atmosphere,
the cloud drifted to nothingness.
I whispered, “Someday, not just yet,
I’ll join you,
in the place where we don’t exist.”

By: Stacy Johnson, 4-28-19