so often

so often

I'm left here in the most
unsheltered, hungered state
waiting, wading in the thick,
just to reach your attentions.

We experience rows of good
like full bloom harvest things,
un/wanton and unabashed,
like heavy fall wheat to a farmland.

The good is followed
by flood/stills of the bad,
harbored hatred and darkened, bitter things,
like a monsoon season rife with hope killings.

And, then the peacetime comes
yielding some long begotten hope,
like a day of eclipsed suns and harbor moons,
and this love gone too soon.

I awaken without you here,
like a parched land,
with no water near.
with no prayer, only fear.

I wish to take leave,
my own warnings I shall not heed,
like a lie/wish to a hopeful thing,
I feed like a fledgling on
the falseness you will bring.

Jason Christopher Johnson
August 28, 2012

And, I could never...

A smile I could never capture with my own,
A touch I could never bear the weight of,
The hand that would not reach for mine,
A love that would exist only outside our time.

Words, spoken in secret places,
In hushed voices,
In scarce times,
Inside impossible dwellings,

Feelings, ignored and quelled down,
Deep into the confines of forgotten places,
Moved against, simplistic borrowed
spaces.

A heart I could never ease into my own,
A home I could not dare construct alone,
The place where we could not meet,
No compromise, no movement here.

Hope, against future leanings,
That you would be here with me,
Until the end of whatever time,
we could find.

Truth, that neither could bare to face,
You, me.
A discerned wall of honesty.
A steeling, calm and disastrous place to be.

One thing,
I could never inhabit,
One thing,
I could never console,
One place,
I could never be,
The crest of your soul.

Jason Christopher Johnson
August 23, 2012

Your promise.

Like the beauty of a word on my tongue,
Or sun underneath my tone,
Bathed in the circumstance of hope,
Believed and full and true.

Like the feeling of strength of solid ground beneath my feet,
Or newness wrapped softly in surprise,
Full up with the wonderment of a brand new day,
Trusted and still, overwhelmingly fey.

Like the stillness of some crisp winter's night,
Or a fresh, whole moon,
Like a beautiful time, gone all to soon,
Missed and loved for the weight of your truth.

Like the weightlessness of waters,
Or wisps of dandelion petals in summer's air,
Cornered ease and hopeful ruminations,
Easy and light and truly pure.

Like the best vintage of a red wine,
Or ancient scenes of ruins,
Tragically beautiful and perfectly flawed,
I could only sit and marvel in some new/fangled awe.

Your truth, your wholeness
Displayed out for me,
In some solid form,
Like an unmoving, deep-rooted tree.

Your promise, of life, of love
Splayed unbearably wide,
Covering all that surrounds me,
Breathing a new life, a new way into my whole world.

Jason Christopher Johnson
August 10, 2012

Some New Day

Yesterday crept away,
Like a thief in the night,
Prancing away on tipped-toes,
With stolen voices,
Marred days,
And all hope packed away.
The hours danced around,
Lingering like humidity during
summer dusks.
Everything was stalled and hinged,
On the movement of your heart.
I stood,
time/still,
In this foreign life/place,
Trying to keep tomorrow away with sheer will,
Trying to hold onto some dream.
this me
this you
this us
this we that would never be.
Yesterday slinked off,
As I was sleeping,
Dreams full up with your face,
A life lived with you,
Like some prison formed by your pace.

And,
in days after,
I moved about like sludge,
Thick and craftless,
Slow moving.
There was no life here.

Some intrepid morn,
I stepped outside on
a misty Summer's day,
and, the wet grass beneath my feet
felt good.
and, the winds embraced me warmly,
full up with comfort and delight.
and, the sun began to shine on my brownskin,
warm and whole.
And, I knew,
in that instant,
Days will begin and end,
without you.
I will breath in and out,
without you.
I will hear music,
without you.
I will live,
In this time,
In my own way,
Forward thinking,
Song singing,
Dream catching,
And love giving.

Jason Christopher Johnson
August 9, 2012