by Philippa Jane
I stare at side-by-side photos,
studying the width of my body,
the sags and soft armor. I could be
examining two strangers, I think –
never saw myself at my heaviest,
don’t recognize this thinner reflection.
I tell my therapist that the comparisons
make me cry; that my scrutiny
feels like bullying as I search for
sadness or a sign in the eyes
of who I was, who I still am.
Later, I write a letter to myself:
Your brain does not recalibrate when
your body changes shape. You remain,
no matter how much you give
or let someone take.
Posted on 09/08/2020
Copyright © 2020 Philippa Jane
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 09/09/20 at 01:03 PM|
Great poem! Thanks for sharing. PS: You might want to change that Explicit rating; you'll get more readers with it off. Voting it as POTD.
|Posted by Richard Vince on 09/09/20 at 09:23 PM|
very powerful. "You remain, / no matter how much you give / or let someone take" really hit home for me, as i've spent the last 4+ years trying to rediscover the me that was hiding inside for so long. thank you.
|Posted by Rob Littler on 09/16/20 at 08:19 AM|
I remember walking in the house, sitting down in the LazyBoy, closing my eyes gently for a moment, and then waking up 30 years later.
|Posted by Johanna May on 11/21/20 at 01:32 PM|
I was gentler to myself after reading your poem. This poem is a gift, thank you for being the medium.