Poems on empty stomach hunger
Apr. 24th, 2024 01:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alee_grrlThis month's workshop focus was on Hunger and poetry, more specifically poetry as activism and how it can be used to fight empty stomach hunger. I really appreciated that they distinguished empty stomach hunger from other forms as there are a lot of poems on metaphorical hunger, on emotional hunger, etc. Apparently there aren't as many on the topic of empty stomach hunger. The poet running the workshop also helped organize this website: Poetry X Hunger, which focuses on using poetry to raise awareness and funds to fight hunger worldwide. He encouraged us to submit our poems and I am considering doing so.
This topic is one that hits very close to home for me given that I grew up in a working class and struggling family and am currently on SNAP (food stamps) benefits since I am only working part-time. The rough poem I penned during the workshop turned into two separate poems by the time I was done.
This first one feels more like a spoken word piece, one that is meant to be performed, but I haven't had the spoons to try recording myself reading it yet. The second poem was originally part of the first, but ultimately taken out and reworked as it felt like it's own poem entirely. It's more of a standard blank verse poem.
Relationship Status - Complicated
“Why don’t we unpack that a bit,” said my therapist in response to a comment about food.
I don’t even remember the comment, to be honest,
but it’s safe to say my relationship with food is—
complicated.
Complicated. Such a great word.
Describes so many things, including my “healing journey”
Such a bland way of saying life left too many open wounds on your soul
and now you're trying all you can to suture them closed and let them heal.
Makes it sound like the process is so simple and straightforward…
When it really, really isn't.
Just got to love how self-help books and some therapists talk
So many bland euphemisms for painful things--
healing journeys and unpacking issues.
Unpacking…
As if it’s all neatly packed away in a box and you just have to lift it down from a shelf and open it.
Pull out memories and talk it out and then pack it all away again and be done
As if healing is a straight and easy path rather than a twisting path,
Looping back again and again. Complicated and difficult.
Like humans. We’re complicated. We're difficult.
We’re messy, and I'm no exception.
I don’t have neat little boxes in my mind.
I doubt anyone does.
What I’ve got is a junk closet filled to the brim with tangled mess--
Nothing labeled, all of it snarled together into a gordian knot.
It takes time and work to find the start of one tangled piece and pull
Carefully hoping it all doesn’t come crashing down
Like an emotionally heavy Jenga game
So let’s untangle my complicated relationship with food
Sensory issues and poverty and obesity and diet culture
And…and…shame, so much shame
I struggle to eat things with certain flavors or textures
But I know to eat when food is offered
Out of politeness, out of respect,
But also because my belly remembers what it is to go hungry
Remembers that hollow feeling, the nausea, and the sensation that your stomach has wrapped around your backbone—as if it’s eating itself
But we aren’t supposed to talk about that.
It’s not good to air your family’s dirty laundry, after all. People will judge.
But I couldn’t hide being part of the free lunch program in schools,
Couldn’t hide my obviously thrifted clothes.
But I could hide my reaction to comments. And I still do to this day.
Being at an event with people who have never struggled with food or hunger and hearing
“How can anyone eat that?”
I’ll bite my tongue and offer a brittle smile and shrug.
I won’t talk about the times I’ve eaten stranger things because it was what was available.
I certainly won’t mention that I’ve picked something off the floor, washed it, and ate it
Always done when no one was looking
Always thinking “it’s fine, it wasn’t there long, and it shouldn’t go to waste”
It’s complicated, I tell my therapist,
when your mother tries fad diet after fad diet,
Weight loss surgeries and diet pills
When she harps on your weight and her own
But uses food as comfort and control.
Encourages skipping meals and judges you for eating things,
Only to turn around and insist you eat the ding dongs she bought because they’re your favorite
And they shouldn’t go to waste.
It’s complicated. All these things are tangled together.
Not knowing how to read your body's hunger signals because you had to ignore them too often.
When your teeth are shot from genetics and malnutrition and food hurts to eat.
When it feels like enjoying food is the worst sin,
because maybe if you didn’t enjoy it so much you wouldn’t be fat.
When hunger always feels like shame.
And yet, food is a necessity.
We must eat to live, to thrive.
And yet, there such are amazing foods out there. Things that delight the taste buds,
that light up your senses. Smells and textures and tastes that come together like magic.
Such simple joy can be found in feeding your body.
So, yeah, my relationship with food is complicated.
But I’m working on untangling it all.
Most importantly, I’m learning to enjoy food again.
But, like me, it’s a work in progress.
SNAP
A card
Simple in its function
Nicer than paper stamps
Easier to use discreetly
But
But
Memories of shame and frustration
Side-eyed judgy looks at the checkout
The helpful tips that really aren’t
Patronizing comments
Snide words
Lazy, undeserving, fat, stupid
Just need to learn to budget
Just need to learn to cook healthier
Just need to get off your ass and work harder
Just need to pull yourself up by your bootstraps
Surely it isn’t that hard
The constant heartache echoing
Memories of a hollow, empty stomach
Feeling that being poor is your own fault
A moral failure
You are not entitled to even the smallest joy
And yet
There are also memories of kindness, of compassion
Of dinners enjoyed only because neighbors cared enough to share
Of holiday meals from donations to food banks
Of people helping cover nonfood items when there wasn’t enough cash at hand
Of compassion from those who understood.
Reminders to treat yourself
That small joys are still joys
Reminders that everyone struggles sometimes
Too many live on the edge
One bad day away from financial disaster
Bathed in compassion
Solace and grace given and received
Often by others who have little
But are happy to share
Food as love rather than shame
This topic is one that hits very close to home for me given that I grew up in a working class and struggling family and am currently on SNAP (food stamps) benefits since I am only working part-time. The rough poem I penned during the workshop turned into two separate poems by the time I was done.
This first one feels more like a spoken word piece, one that is meant to be performed, but I haven't had the spoons to try recording myself reading it yet. The second poem was originally part of the first, but ultimately taken out and reworked as it felt like it's own poem entirely. It's more of a standard blank verse poem.
Relationship Status - Complicated
“Why don’t we unpack that a bit,” said my therapist in response to a comment about food.
I don’t even remember the comment, to be honest,
but it’s safe to say my relationship with food is—
complicated.
Complicated. Such a great word.
Describes so many things, including my “healing journey”
Such a bland way of saying life left too many open wounds on your soul
and now you're trying all you can to suture them closed and let them heal.
Makes it sound like the process is so simple and straightforward…
When it really, really isn't.
Just got to love how self-help books and some therapists talk
So many bland euphemisms for painful things--
healing journeys and unpacking issues.
Unpacking…
As if it’s all neatly packed away in a box and you just have to lift it down from a shelf and open it.
Pull out memories and talk it out and then pack it all away again and be done
As if healing is a straight and easy path rather than a twisting path,
Looping back again and again. Complicated and difficult.
Like humans. We’re complicated. We're difficult.
We’re messy, and I'm no exception.
I don’t have neat little boxes in my mind.
I doubt anyone does.
What I’ve got is a junk closet filled to the brim with tangled mess--
Nothing labeled, all of it snarled together into a gordian knot.
It takes time and work to find the start of one tangled piece and pull
Carefully hoping it all doesn’t come crashing down
Like an emotionally heavy Jenga game
So let’s untangle my complicated relationship with food
Sensory issues and poverty and obesity and diet culture
And…and…shame, so much shame
I struggle to eat things with certain flavors or textures
But I know to eat when food is offered
Out of politeness, out of respect,
But also because my belly remembers what it is to go hungry
Remembers that hollow feeling, the nausea, and the sensation that your stomach has wrapped around your backbone—as if it’s eating itself
But we aren’t supposed to talk about that.
It’s not good to air your family’s dirty laundry, after all. People will judge.
But I couldn’t hide being part of the free lunch program in schools,
Couldn’t hide my obviously thrifted clothes.
But I could hide my reaction to comments. And I still do to this day.
Being at an event with people who have never struggled with food or hunger and hearing
“How can anyone eat that?”
I’ll bite my tongue and offer a brittle smile and shrug.
I won’t talk about the times I’ve eaten stranger things because it was what was available.
I certainly won’t mention that I’ve picked something off the floor, washed it, and ate it
Always done when no one was looking
Always thinking “it’s fine, it wasn’t there long, and it shouldn’t go to waste”
It’s complicated, I tell my therapist,
when your mother tries fad diet after fad diet,
Weight loss surgeries and diet pills
When she harps on your weight and her own
But uses food as comfort and control.
Encourages skipping meals and judges you for eating things,
Only to turn around and insist you eat the ding dongs she bought because they’re your favorite
And they shouldn’t go to waste.
It’s complicated. All these things are tangled together.
Not knowing how to read your body's hunger signals because you had to ignore them too often.
When your teeth are shot from genetics and malnutrition and food hurts to eat.
When it feels like enjoying food is the worst sin,
because maybe if you didn’t enjoy it so much you wouldn’t be fat.
When hunger always feels like shame.
And yet, food is a necessity.
We must eat to live, to thrive.
And yet, there such are amazing foods out there. Things that delight the taste buds,
that light up your senses. Smells and textures and tastes that come together like magic.
Such simple joy can be found in feeding your body.
So, yeah, my relationship with food is complicated.
But I’m working on untangling it all.
Most importantly, I’m learning to enjoy food again.
But, like me, it’s a work in progress.
SNAP
A card
Simple in its function
Nicer than paper stamps
Easier to use discreetly
But
But
Memories of shame and frustration
Side-eyed judgy looks at the checkout
The helpful tips that really aren’t
Patronizing comments
Snide words
Lazy, undeserving, fat, stupid
Just need to learn to budget
Just need to learn to cook healthier
Just need to get off your ass and work harder
Just need to pull yourself up by your bootstraps
Surely it isn’t that hard
The constant heartache echoing
Memories of a hollow, empty stomach
Feeling that being poor is your own fault
A moral failure
You are not entitled to even the smallest joy
And yet
There are also memories of kindness, of compassion
Of dinners enjoyed only because neighbors cared enough to share
Of holiday meals from donations to food banks
Of people helping cover nonfood items when there wasn’t enough cash at hand
Of compassion from those who understood.
Reminders to treat yourself
That small joys are still joys
Reminders that everyone struggles sometimes
Too many live on the edge
One bad day away from financial disaster
Bathed in compassion
Solace and grace given and received
Often by others who have little
But are happy to share
Food as love rather than shame
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Date: 2024-04-25 12:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-25 12:22 pm (UTC)