The night my mother died I didn’t cry,
it was like dimethyltryptamine
flooded my brain with magnetic rain.
It was as though her death triggered a rush
of shrooms to flower in my mind,
and time and space had gone to kush.
It was as though I could hear her voice
like the voices of peyote shamans
singing their song of spirit into smoke.
It was as though every trip I’d known
was a road map to this sacred place
where I’d be motherless and stoned.
2 thoughts on “The Spirit Molecule”
Such a lovely tribute to your Mom. Love, Sharon. ________________________________
Thanks Sharon. Love, Sal.