Christina A. Johnson is an author living and writing in southern New Hampshire. She explores in her poetry themes of identity, alienation, and relationship.
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The Soul
How do you curate your soul?
You can't dress it
In linens or in silk.
All the fine jewelry
In the world - the emeralds,
The sapphires, and
The rubies - would fall
To the floor.
It's impossible to
Envision it, that part
Of you immaterial.
The part of you that
Doesn't wear shoes,
No matter how high-heeled,
How buckled, or bespangled.
The part of you that
Has no hair to do,
Or lipstick to apply.
It thirsts for only love,
And isn't interested
In champagne.
It feeds on love,
And eschews caviar.
It breathes love, breathes it,
Breathes it, instead of air.
Eschatology
Eschatology
Is a silly concept.
The world will end,
For you or for me,
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| Pixabay photo derivative |
For all of us.
Even when the
Last molecule
Of air is squeezed
From existence,
There will remain -
In the blueprint
Of the universe -
Its memory.
And new worlds
Will be born,
And new life
Will crawl from
Fresh oceans,
And creatures
We can only imagine
Will populate
This place, again.
Love
Love is not a
Zero-sum game.
It's the catalyst
For something
Extraordinary:
For who you are
As a person to
Blossom, unfolding
With the morning,
Feeling the sun
On your petals
And inside the
Recesses of
Your opening bud.
Love is not
A game to be
Lost or won.
It's not something
To be reserved for
A special occasion.
~Christina Johnson