Literary Vegan

You knelt here,  Asking for signs. No candle or crucifix appears Now, But how much more sacred Is this space For how you paused, Soul to the fragile window?  Your string pearls, possessions, They slithered through traitor's hands Down and out of these rooms But the muttering of prayers Imprints on a place - Or flutters somewhere Men can't reach. Carved out of a castle,  This cove has sensory history -  Just add the smoke, incense, or Touch the wood, tangible. But a spirit trying to transcend these panels Is like me imagining you here Through centuries - The wanting to connect Is eternal.  LJ Ireton

I can't remember the songs I chose, Or when it was,  Who exactly was in the audience. But I remember my dress: Black with Aztec  Diamond streams, strapless,  Skirts to the floor -  Because I held your bouquet of flowers against it under the spotlight For the first time. It was an extension of me -  I cradled perfumed dreams In plastic skirts that night, My arms held film memories, Revealed in white hydrangea  Of applause and rewards on stage. How many times had I performed  And never felt this way? All because you Gave me flowers. LJ Ireton  2022

I stroked the head of a calf Saved from slaughter, Settled in the straw but still unsure Of what life is.  With the lightest touch of my hand On his soft forehead,  Despair weighed down on my soul That the other young cows were gone, And willed so. Not I.  I try to communicate this to him -  That I get my heart kicked by human feet under white tablecloths, That I'd rather my heart be on a stable floor covered in mud and hay, anyway. There is loneliness in reverence  For his life -  But not for him.  LJ Ireton