Cicatrizes is a mixed media ebook written by me and designed by Maya Rodriguez. Featuring short stories, poetry, prayers, a recipe and a spell, this is a more personal look into my time in Brazil. Available for pre-order here.
The first time I died.
And everyone I had ever knew
Or had ever had knew me died as well.
Shooting into the black hole of the universe
The ego dries away like rain on the concrete
The light of the smallness of your existence is the sun
And at first it’s horrifying
But that’s just your ego crying at its loss of self.
Once you die, the fun begins.
The second time I had gone through a lot of internal monologues
“Am I doing drugs?”
Yes. Well. Kinda.
“That’s what people who do drugs say”
But it’s helping me, it’s medicine.
I think so.
Well, let’s see what happens this time.
The third time the ancestors told me to take my black ass home.
I danced around the bonfire and felt the party that is my melanin
But as the song changed I got tired.
Like really tired.
And I just wanted to hold my grandma’s hands.
Or put my nose in my mother’s hair.
So my ancestors said, take ya ass home now girl.
“Okay.” I said.
And finally bought a return ticket.
The fourth time I came all over myself.
Masturbated in front of shrines in an impeccably clean bathroom.
And when someone walked in on me
-perhaps she was coming to do the same thing
We giggled like toddlers discovering their genitalia for the first time.
The second time I saw my future kids
I saw a curly haired boy peak out to me
His eyelashes beating down like wings
“Mommy, when we come down can we-“
“Shut up” I cried.
Why do you want to come here now?
Why not come as a dinosaur or come down 1000 years from now
When we’re all in space and 4 dimensional.
He said, “What’s 4 dimensional mean mommy?”
I still don’t know son.
This last time I almost never came back.
My ego must have gotten tired of me working her out so she ran away
She was chilling in the black hole,
Now that she likes the way it feels she think she can just up and leave when she wants.
But I’ll show her.
She don’t run this show no more.
And when people ask what I was doing in Brazil
On those beaches and in those woods
Chanting with those hippies, dancing in front those flames
Drinking the tea.
Doing drugs, as some would call it.
Joining a cult as one friend thought it.
I’ll just smile and tell them to read my book
There is no shame in this particular secret.