Purgatory
When I was a child
I would play the "breath holding" game with myself
It wasn't the kind of
"breath holding to gain attention from parents" game
It was simply a challenge
How long could I deprive myself of air?
life?
The strangest thing is that the longer you hold your breath
the more alive you feel
The heart beats even louder and more ferociously
The body warms and trembles to stay alive
until eventually the mouth flies open
like an ugly, gasping Piranah
an exhale that feels like failure
worn like shame...
As I grew up
breath holding evolved into food withholding
It was simply a challenge
How long could I deprive myself of food?
Long enough for my heart to beat erratically
for my muscles to cramp
and to shiver all day
even in the summer
Feeling alive...
this slow act of suicide
How long could I press my fingers into my flesh
before I would feel the pain?
the belly I loathed dotted with perfect thumb sized bruises
Where is this poem leading?
to life?
death?
or somewhere
in between...
Angela Minard 2016©
Artwork~ "Hungry" by Leslie Ann O'Dell
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2 Comments:
Thank you for sharing this. I keep coming back to this daily. Thanks for helping me feel less alone.
I am glad that it has helped you to feel less alone. I think one of the reasons why I post my poems here instead of keeping them in a private journal, is because it also helps me feel less alone. Sending you so much love and light! <3
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