Bumps and bruises,
red marks,
ribs sprinkled with contusions,
skin stretched too tight,
tendons straining,
there is no more fight,
knobbly knees,
we watch you fall,
and beg you please,
hollow and sunken cheek,
narrow waisted,
why won't you eat?
stressed and starving,
inside I'm screaming,
you forget all about me
in this quest for skinny
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We too easily lose track of the pain of the 'watchers' and the 'carers', and too easily simplify the pain of the watched. You catch the poignancy of the isolation between the body of the anorexic, like a flare of despair and the uncomprehending mind of the carer, between which there can be no dialogue. Such a complex, miserable situation...