the book of life. chapter 3
god, weed, and ptsd
99% of the symptoms
came post trauma
like 30 years after seeing the monster in daddy get bigger
and take a bite out of mamma

i found pieces of her in hymns + songs
blood-stained walls + crying all night
crust in eyes + loopy
still remembering things
i never wanted to see
like bugs crawling in the dark

pillows on floors in closets
while terror roamed our home
torturing the womb
that carried me
she taught me god does crazy things
like nothing at all

it’s crazy to me
cause i thought god knew everything
if i was god and i knew
that man would put his hands on you
+ 2 little black girls who weren’t abused
would carry the symptoms past age 32
i’d be ok with a jay or two
it’d definitely be permissible
i’d sit with you
through girl scout cookies, og kush + gorrilla glue
healing’s a crazy thing too
what it looks like for me
might be different for you
but never any condemnation
cause i got the revelation
after i stopped segregating
putting distance between god + me
when its god & weed
killing the ptsd

at least having me less symptomatic
in basket of bad dreams i keep havin’
so with every toke
the nightmares plays but the sound is off
and when god talks to me
i’m not alone when the lights on
seeing what’s hidden
afraid to admit it
system glitches + quick fixes in a pinch
they never see me flinch from loud noises
that don’t exist any more
cause my brain’s chain to memory
extends further than me
tightening around my suffering
creeping into me on sundays
so it feels safer to worship online
and maintain my blend of
spirit, substance + syndrome
incubated by his grace + her mercy

i don’t need you to validate my medication
never an addiction, a holy prescription
some days i’m just trying to keep my head above water
the waves bring stress.
post trauma. disorder
but i’m faded falling fixed at his feet
grieving, sleeping, keeping light on me
photosynthesizing things rooted deep
growing, slowing, flowing effortlessly
healing is a specialized blend for me
of god + consistency