The War Within

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Free me

From the old, outdated

Despotic government

Within my own tissues

The linear

Rule and fear based

Trajectory decision

Making factories

Housed within

.

Free me

From this continual War

From the fear

That I will have nothing

.

Nothing

Beyond worrying about food

If I eat enough to not be starving

Beyond the plotting, planning

.

Free me from the fear

Of feeling too full

Of old, archaic terrors

I’ve no real understanding of

Nor skill of navigating through

Alone

.

Free me from feeling unattended

Lost

Abandoned

With this struggle

Unmet and misunderstood

.

Free me from eating less

In fear of all of this terrifying mystery

Arising

In fear of whatever this is

That keeps me in this hidden

Non-emergency

Yet ever-whittling

Cycle

Of depending on measuring spoons

And calories

And minutes

To hold me

To hold it

At bay

.

Free me

From whatever it is

That keeps me focused on this

And distracted

From the fullness

Of what I could be living

Of what I really desire

Of the sheer and overwhelming

Vision manifested

.

FREEDOM

Would look like

Truly feeling my body tell me its hungers

Truly knowing what would feed it

Truly giving myself that

Truly knowing when it is enough

Truly feeling the result of a met desire

Satiation

My

Little

Girl

Fed

.

Her

Beyond the calories

And meal plans

And minutes

And cups

And measuring spoons

And fear of fullness

And orchestrating my whole entire fucking existence

Around this constant

Fear

Of fullness

Around this constant

Fear

Of…

Freedom?

.

Some days

When I haven’t just collapsed into numbness

Of just accepting that this

Is

all

there

is

I pray so hard

So goddamned hard

The spit chokes me

I pray so goddamned hard

For something to support me

In this unimaginable transformation

One it seems I have tried

Every position of attempt

And arrived at

Nothing

.

Covered in this slimy residue

Of grievings

I wail

FREEDOM

I want it so bad

To hear this desire

Spontaneous

To know how to feed it

To feel myself feeding it

To feel myself feeling full of it

To feel myself enjoying that fullness

This

FREEDOM

Is it possible

Is it possible

Is it possible

To feel something

Beyond this?

.

I’m praying

Again

I’m wailing

Again

I’m risking

Your complete and utter

Lack of response

Again

I’m crying out

Anyway

To

You

~Originally written as “Her Hunger” for Liberty. Breath, Death, Soul. A Literary Collection by The Sisters of The Holy Pen, ed. Pamela Eakins (2020). Shared with respect to all of the intense and horrendous things others are experiencing in their outer worlds…but also inside their inner, and perhaps holographic, ones too.

Holding hope for the planet and the Soul of our species.

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