When I refused to eat at my family’s table,
I was refusing the only way my father knew
To show love, feeding him a “Screw you.”
Anger ate me up inside, there was no room
For life, and happiness was crowded out.
Thank God I learned it was okay to take up space.
Not sure about sharing this one, but it’s what I’ve got today. Linked to FOWC: Table.
I wasn’t going to write for Prosery at DVerse, but having seen that the line was from T.S. Eliot, I was interested. This week’s line is from The Waste Land: “What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish?”
I know what it is to be hungry.
I know what it is to tell myself I am content. Continue reading
The MVB prompt, “Tags,” made me think of how the eating disorder made me obsessed with the size of my clothes — the smaller the better. It didn’t matter that some brands have different ways of sizing; if I didn’t fit into size X pants, then that was unacceptable.
This poem is also for FOWC: Falling and for MLMM’s Saturday Mix, which is about antithesis (using opposites) this week. Linked with the Writers’ Pantry at PSU.
Putting worth in the tags of clothes,
Thinking a letter or number knows —
Such a rough road, no smooth sailing,
Always thinking the wearer is failing
Therefore worn down, to despair falling.
Thankfully, a new way’s always calling:
No longer to sit so sad in shadows,
But to stand against what Life would oppose.
This post is for Fandango’s Flashback Friday. The poem below was written / originally posted on August 27, 2019. It was inspired by the picture below, which was part of another challenge. Today, I would have preferred to post something not-sad, but this poem was the best one from the last few August 27ths.
This poem was inspired by the Weekly Scribblings about trees and also FOWC: Air. I am not sure if this poem is finished (does anyone else get that feeling that, sometimes, the poem might have more to say?), but this is what I have currently.
How beautiful is every tree,
There is delight in different leaves
Of varying forms and sizes, even one
With a tall and leaning trunk —
The air is fresh and clean, clearing
Old thoughts, and memories healing.
Open up the windows,
Lift the blinds
But maybe hang a new curtain —
Certainly rearrange the furniture
Change it to something happier
And take away the clutter.
There’s too much stuff
From the past; when was the last
Renovation in this place?
New color-schemes can create
A more hopeful face.
For this week’s Weekly Scribblings at PSU, Rommy prompts us with several lines from the musical “Hamilton.” This brings back a lot of memories because I was really into the musical when it first came out, and certain lines from it really inspired and motivated me at the time. This is not a poem today. This is prose, and this is nonfiction.
“Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder.” That line could be the summary of my life.
Except, dying wasn’t all that easy, either.
With depression as persistent as it is, and the eating disorder which covered it being so dangerously severe, I’m amazed that I did not die. Soon after the musical “Hamilton” came out and my friend introduced me to its songs, I was in an intensive therapy program (again) to help with the eating disorder behaviors and consequences (again). I had heard that anorexia has one of the highest mortality rates of any mental illness, with up to 25% of sufferers dying, especially if they do not receive treatment. Thinking about all of the people I had met during my recovery journey — it was at least 4 dozen. Take 25% of that; that’s how many could have died already, when I was given a second chance and a third chance. Sometimes, I didn’t even want those extra chances, so why did they not go to somebody else?
I had asked myself — still do, in fact — why I got treatment, why I’m still alive at all. Even during that stint in the therapy program, I was inspired by another line from “Hamilton”: “If there’s a reason I’m still alive when so many have died, then I’m willing to wait for it.” Two years later, I revisited my journal from that time, and I was still waiting yet also re-inspired. If I ever find out the reason why God saved me, I am still willing to wait for it.
This week’s Sunday writing prompt from MLMM is “light,” and several expressions about light are provided as examples. I didn’t use this exact phrase but was inspired especially by, “Thankfully they were light enough to rescue.” I wrote a tanka and then a shadorma.
This poem is for DVerse Poetics and is also partially inspired by FOWC: Issue. The line I used as inspiration is below. Also linking with One-Liner Wednesday / JusJoJan for today.
“Airless and unloved, in the dank basement of the mind” L. Igloria ~ A Reparation Continue reading