I Choose You

I’m choosing you
Your health
your smile
Your hand
I’m going to take you places
planes, bars with all the fresh vegetables you can eat,
and kombucha on tap
served by souls who just wanna make you smile
the way I do
I’m choosing you.
If this life is the life you love
with all your heart,
I’ve done my job.
and I’ve done it well
if it’s not,
fuck it, let’s keep going until
it’s everything you dreamed of,
and more.

Saschia Johnson

A Good Rest

She closes her eyes,
the bed bugs have scuttled off into the woods,
and the moths gathered around her neighbor’s
bug shocking light.
A breeze tickles her nose
so she pulls the blankets up up up
over her shoulders.
She dreams of singing skeletons
and dancing dead men who church
chocolate with small men from
a land no one has ever heard of.
A star falls and grants her wishes
as she sleeps a good sleep
with warm blankets
and dreams to keep her busy

Saschia Johnson

Go Out and Give it Away

You know that thing you’re clinging on to too tight, it’s time to give it away.

Photo by Diego PH on Unsplash

The tighter you squeeze
the less it can breathe

Give it away.

Stop holding it secret
or hostage or in the dark corner
of your closet

Give it away.

It wasn’t meant to be
saved for only you and
the few you choose

Give it away.

-Saschia Johnson

Photo by Jimmy Chang on Unsplash

Originally posted on Jaynepress.medium.com

The highlighted lines are the lines my medium community really enjoyed. Thanks for reading.

The Wind Collector

What does it mean to be a whole person?

He toils away
his days tossed like the dirty laundry
that’s left next to the hamper.
Not an ounce of passion
pulses through his tired veins.

His insides sink below the earth
while his muscle memory does the work

Am I of any use here? he shouts to the heavens.
The wind places itself into his net
What use am I to the wind?

 — “

-Saschia Johnson

Prompt response to Diana’s publication Know Thyself Heal Thyself

This poem was originally published on a Medium publication titled Know Thyself Heal Thyself. The highlighted sections are the lines Medium readers appreciated most.

How Did You Die?

For the Conscious Writer

Image for post
Photo by Jehyun Sung on Unsplash

What you’re willing to die for, should be the same as what you’re willing to live for. Death is inevitable. Not in a depressing way but we all know it’s coming. What’s unknown, though? Your greatness? The impact your writing will have? How much you will change with your mere existence? Those are all unknowns and they always will be. One of my favorite songs from Eminem’s Music to Be Murdered By -Side B album is his song titled Higher. Here’s a line

All I know is every time I think I hit my ceiling
I go higher than I’ve ever fuckin’ been

That’s something worth thinking about. For a long time, I knew my daughter was the only thing in this life worth dying for. I said that religiously. But I was killing myself. I had destructive thoughts. While I did enjoy fitness, I still wasn’t taking in enough calories so it was taking a toll on my mental health. My digestion went downhill. My emotions went downhill which had an impact on my relationship and ability to make proper decisions for the future of my daughter.

Then it hit one day. Okay, you’d die for your baby and your mom but what are you willing to stay alive for? Life is fuckin hard as shit. So hard in fact that living in a healthy way is the best most precious gift I could ever give to myself and my daughter.

That shift in mindset changed my entire perspective on why I’m alive and how I should be thinking about my purpose, my motivations, my disciplines, and my relationships.

So yes, how did you die, but it also means (and more importantly) How did you live?

How Did You Die?

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?

Oh, a trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn’t the fact that you’re hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what’s that!
Come up with a smiling face.
It’s nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there-that’s disgrace.

The harder you’re thrown, why the higher you bounce
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts;
It’s how did you fight-and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.

Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he’s slow or spry,
It isn’t the fact that you’re dead that counts,
But only how did you die?

Edmund Vance Cooke

Publication: For the Conscious Writer

The highlights are lines Medium members thought were pretty awesome.