Twenty-nine hundred
twenty-two days…
Eight years since that day.
A sweet-roll, a cappuccino, 
A muttered comment to God, 
“This is stupid,” and I had finished.
Given up. Surrendered.
Abandoned the idea
I might have willpower sufficient
to overcome my compulsion
to cram food into my mouth
sufficient to block the fear, the anger, 
the self hatred, the despair.
Two-thousand nine hundred
twenty-two days of recovery, 
of surrender, of keeping coming back.
Eight years of one day at a time
learning how to live, to love, to let go, 
to let God.