I Feel Swallowed
a poem & reflection
today, i feel swallowed,
gulped down the throat
of something hungry,
something desperate.
i feel swallowed,
the way a pill is knocked
back and leaves a bitter
trace of where it slithered.
am i a shot
of something strong?
am i a bite
of something indulgent?
am i a sip
of sour medicine?
it’s cold inside this throat,
the walls closing in tighter.
it’s dark inside this stomach,
the acid gnaws at my skin.
today, i feel swallowed.
will i nourish or will i poison?
did i taste like your mother’s cooking,
did i sting like screw top wine?
did i leave you wanting more,
or do you feel satisfied?
today, i feel swallowed.
i feel swallowed raw and whole.
did i leave a lump
swelling in your esophagus?
did i make you want
to cough me right back up?
i’m sweet then i’m sour,
i’m zesty then i’m mild.
i brew an aftertaste in your mouth,
can you still feel the flavor?
today, i feel swallowed,
and it’s you who swallowed me whole.
Defining my emotions has often been difficult for me. Am I sad? Angry? Frustrated? Am I happy? Content? Intoxicated? I’ve always been better at writing metaphors than saying the real thing.
I wrote this poem about a month ago and recently rediscovered it. While I was reading it, I couldn’t quite put my finger on what I was feeling. What does it mean to feel swallowed?
The truth is, I still don’t know what it means, but I remember how I felt when I wrote this, sitting in the dark and pouring out my heart to the glow of my notes app. I’ve felt that way before, and probably will again. Swallowed.
Maybe it doesn’t mean anything, but I know that writing this poem felt like a deep exhale after a long stretch of holding my breath. Regardless of it’s purpose or symbolism, it helped to define what I was feeling, even if it remains ambiguous.
Do you feel swallowed? Do you feel gobbled up by someone who blindly popped you into their mouth like popcorn at the movies? Do you feel like someone’s pill, granting them a better future, but sacrificing yourself in the process? Or maybe the one swallowing you isn’t a person, but a job that gulps you down and spits you back up. Or the anxiety that chews at your chest before pulling you into its acid-burning stomach.
I’m not sure what you are fighting, dear reader, but I want you to know that hope is not avoiding being swallowed, it’s knowing that in the darkness, you can cut yourself out from the belly of the beast.
Sincerely,
Caroline Cherry
Check out my latest collab with my dear friend Lucia!
This was really good. In enjoyed the use of metaphor and felt it gave a good picture of how being swallowed might feel!
What's so interesting about this poem and its reflection is that the poem itself feels like it's circling around the feeling, trying to put a finger on it and leaning on metaphor to do so. Some feelings have no names (or perhaps a very long german one), but are universal regardless, and I think you identified one of those! Thank you so much for sharing this!