starving the pain (guest post)

i was twelve when i stopped eating,
hungry for big chunks of life, but nothing
really satisfied– i broke,

staring at my budding breasts,
but different than the boys in school did–
and i wished to be invisible

most people think at twelve
you don’t know much about the world,
i knew enough to hate it–

and it was so easy– i just stopped
& everything with me disappeared,
menses, breasts, the pain,

i was a warrior in battle, riding on the wind,
about to win, and ready to knock over
everyone who came too close–
i built tight walls with food i
never touched.

It was winter when we visited my grandma,
small and fragile,
lying in that bed in hospital,
lungs filled with water &

i struggled,
wrecked by weakness i could hardly stand
nor cry or scream or suffer,
not even hating the injustice cause

i’d already died

and in the rearview mirror saw my face
but didn’t recognize–

That day, the warrior dropped

and left me nothing
but thirty kilo skin and angst with lungs still breathing,

somehow– i survived

and on my long way back
i wept for days

(this gripping prose, from claudia, at jaywalking the moon… thank you, friend…)

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