Poetry by Jason Johnson

Eat Me Whole
By Jason Johnson

Sometimes the pain we carry wears a mask —
Not to hide, but to feel seen
Seen by those who echo what broke us,
Who speak the language of our wounds
Instead of the songs of our healing.

I’ve been there—
Choosing silence over surrender,
Bitterness over breaking open,
And yet, in your presence,
Something, softer calls to me.

You don’t soothe my resentment—
You unravel it.
You don’t smother my pain—
You invite it to breathe,
To let go, to forgive,
And become something Holy.

In this season— my season of obedience—
There is still shadows I fear.
What if I lose you by telling the truth?
What if this seed of love
Isn’t meant to bloom?

But then I remember—
Victory was never mine to claim,
Only a distance flame to walk toward.
And so I speak now, not to possess you,
But to honor the will of God in me.

You once told me healing was a choice,
A brave one.
And now I realize,
It is also a person as well.

You feel like a page I’ve read before—
But in a language I’m still learning to trust.
EAT ME WHOLE

Sometimes the pain we carry wears a mask —
Not to hide, but to feel seen
Seen by those who echo what broke us,
Who speak the language of our wounds
Instead of the songs of our healing.

I’ve been there—
Choosing silence over surrender,
Bitterness over breaking open,
And yet, in your presence,
Something, softer calls to me.

You don’t soothe my resentment—
You unravel it.
You don’t smother my pain—
You invite it to breathe,
To let go, to forgive,
And become something Holy.

In this season— my season of obedience—
There is still shadows I fear.
What if I lose you by telling the truth?
What if this seed of love
Isn’t meant to bloom?

But then I remember—
Victory was never mine to claim,
Only a distance flame to walk toward.
And so I speak now, not to possess you,
But to honor the will of God in me.

You once told me healing was a choice,
A brave one.
And now I realize,
It is also a person as well.

You feel like a page I’ve read before—
But in a language I’m still learning to trust.
You remind me that the ache in my soul is singular,
But shared across many lifetimes of hearts
Beating and shattering and beginning again.

So here is my truth.
I want more than friendship.
Not to fill a void,
But to walk beside someone
Who dares to live w/ a pure heart
Even after everything.

If this is not your path,
I’ll still cherish this chapter we’ve written.
But if it is—
Let us write e next one
In faith,
In healing,
In love…But shared across many lifetimes of hearts
Beating and shattering and beginning again.

So here is my truth.
I want more than friendship.
Not to fill a void,
But to walk beside someone
Who dares to live w/ a pure heart
Even after everything.

If this is not your path,
I’ll still cherish this chapter we’ve written.
But if it is—
Let us write the next one
In faith,
In healing,
In love…

As Time Stood Still
By Jason Johnson

Frozen in our thoughts, are questions never uttered, that lie as an ice sickle, resting on the tip of our tongue’s. Distance memories, constantly recycling on replay within innermost depths of our mind, haunting us w/ past regrets near and far. The one’s in which you should’ve said this, and wish you would’ve said that, forcing us to relive days that we’ll never have back.

So, how does one move forward when dealing with an obstacle they just can’t seem to get past, in the form of our past? How is one expected to survive an injury there is no coming back from? This is a question that has been posed from the beginning of time, that still, after hundreds of years has been left unanswered.

So who am I to question the question that has been a conundrum for so many men, many of which are deemed greater in esteem than myself? So graciously, I laid down my sword, to a warrior much stronger than I in might, accepting defeat in a winless fight. I stand next to you, statuesque in nature, amongst the numerous other, grief stricken soul. Not as a means of comfort nor as a shield of protection, fore in this instance there is no such solace.

So, I stand with you not in pity or fear, nor thru the sympathy that we all feel, but rather with the empathy that allows me to in compass your burden as though it were my own. Forcing me to hurt as well, and beckons me to be a constant, yet silent advocate for your tears. I am the chariot which a waits your healing, even if that healing never comes. Nevertheless, I remain as still, as untouched water, and although there is no time table on when time, will unstand still, my gift to you in this moment is unconditional patience and unrelenting pray….