I was once asked
If I ever got high
For me it’s like
Reading from the book
Of psalms
And reaching the sky
Elijah if you’d like
A Goyim taking flight
Shooting past the 10 gates of heaven
Sharing bread that’s un leaven
A bembe to the seven
In courts with the Sanhedrin
Olofi scouring at them
I handed the keys
To Ogun
Hanuman waited in the catacombs
Where Yacub conjured up
Deceptions
The sound of the coqui brought back
Reflections
De Mami y Papi walking in the island of Brooklyn
Where roots became cemented
And visions of palm trees
Where just a painting on the wall
Jesus right there also
With lotto tickets pinned on
Ojalah prayers rang
Like the call to adhan in the morning
I remember meeting a girl named Amina
Bore a prophet she was told
Covered in modesty
And smelled of bubble gum
This to me is the high
Memories of a time no longer alive
Where books, prayers and sound
Came to life
And visit me in the moments
Between my padre nuestros
Y Alhumdulillahs

#poem