You made pasta for you and the kids <br />I looked on longingly; pasta looks good, <br />so very good, it is comfort food <br /> <br />I dished up potatoes for myself, some <br />meat, that was that – while you lot tucked <br />into your great-looking pasta dish <br /> <br />Too wonderful to describe – afterwards <br />I promised myself just a very small <br />bite, just to taste <br /> <br />Just to remind me of what it’s like <br />one bite led to another and another and <br />another - I fell into temptation <br /> <br />It was amazing… This morning I sit <br />at my desk, doing my best to concentrate, <br />but pain is taking my thoughts away <br /> <br />You did not make the rule no pasta <br />for me; you found it necessary to help <br />me survive to keep pasta out of my life <br /> <br />But I had to indulge, had to find out for <br />myself; now once again, all the symptoms <br />are back; stomach burning, ears aching <br /> <br />Barbed wire in my head; a heart full of <br />fears… the bane of my life is food, bread, <br />the staple of life, pasta, fish, everything good <br /> <br />I have to insist that I’m an alien life form, <br />my digestive system was not made for this <br />world, and I want to go back <br /> <br />To wherever I came from, feeling so terribly <br />sick, feeling so bad, feeling so guilty and sad; <br />simply because I desired a morsel of <br /> <br />Your lovely, lovely food; it must be a sign <br />that I don’t belong on this earth; I must find the <br />place of origin before my birth…<br /><br />Margaret Alice<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/find-the-place-of-origin-before-my-birth/
