Tag Archives: plant medicine

The tabernanthe

Sometimes you can
  see that
big wave
bumping up
  in the distance
coming for you

It’s up to you
  how you want
to catch it—If
you have the courage
  to catch it
at all

How could I say no then—
  I hardly walked
six months
before those capsules
  of root bark
were placed into my hands

How could I care
  that those with weak hearts
had already crossed over
at the dosage
  I was to eat—

You go in knowing this
  and within an hour
  the old you is gone
forever

Flooded out

That bitter metallic
  purging—the gravity—
motion sickness spinning
into the spiral
of everything that’s
  ever happened
on this planet

The sheer vividness
  of the visions / You
could hone in on
anything here specifically
like there was an
  earthbound threshold
applied to it’s living database—

It was realer than real

There were the
  Bwiti’s masks
up close
in my face—
the detail
woven into the dyed red
white fibers
  of the hemp
and the wood—

Smearing like oil
  flashing a deep blue
  ripple from every
moveless movement—

The wounded
  soldiers fighting
in the sandbox
unable to see
the way out—the endless
  wars by proxy
internalized—

The unpeeling
  of my own
everything—the darkest
  sense of peaceful
contempt—

It was as if harmalas
  were only half the story
like there was a point
where they break down 
and this is the only
ethnobotanical
that establishes itself
  on the scaffolding of
where they leave off

Fully submerged like
  you’re underwater / in
a liquid dream
electric—lightning
bolts strike
the water of your
dancing eyes
an almost religious bliss
  one could never imagine
possible without

All the things you’ve done /
  should have done /
should do

Mbira
  of the spirit—how melodic
we can be

The glass pipe packed
  with dense purple flowers—
a traditional synergy
in modern times—
it would last all night
  one grapey / woody
relaxation at a time

But flicking the lighter
was like breaking a prism

I remember laying
  in front of the fan
motionless
dissociated
feeling no pain
and flying
  all around the room
of everywhere and nowhere

It breaks down
  into psychoactive
pieces
the metabolite circulates
  for up to three months
the first time

You see it’s tracers
  flash when the sun rises
  the sun sets—reminding you
of how you got here

You feel it coaxing you
  to be the person
  you should be
and are now

And I never once
did look back

Except in awe
  at the power
of saying yes
  and no
at the same time


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