Literary Vegan

I have worn mourning many times I carried her elegantly at least,  Lace-draped loss.  In grief I still knew glory - I held out my sombre skirts, I knew where to step. But this constant unknowing Grasps at my chest - With each cold breath A mocking kind of hope, The entertaining of a ghost Future lingers. Each day I dress a maybe With wordless fabric,  So heavily weighted - Elizabeth knows her indecision  Will cut to the bone Eventually.  Copyright LJ Ireton 2023

It has taken me decades To look how I wanted to At eleven - The rough elegance Of ivy, wound and dripping  Off bark Jagged perfect hearts, After years, a bouquet Of my own making And not listening to you Or my impatience - Just the girl Who didn't want to brush her hair, But catch her billowing skirts On jutting leaves.  I know how to be her now. May I forgive myself For never waiting long enough, For forgetting The desire of the young, The trailing lovely dirty forest, The gait of the willow -  In my impulsive attempts To shape a flower, Instead of letting her grow. Copyright LJ Ireton 2023 

The reflection of an egret Under the willow, Wings wide - The sight of white horses, Walking celestial Moonlight in the field - The sky guides us To the old earth, The new  Amongst the dust, the crumbling, Stars fly in the river, Faith chews on fading grass.  LJ Ireton 2023

I will never forget the first laughter - After the day I cried And kept crying; Into hours that were weeks And weeks that were hours, Wading through cloudlike reality - For a time, I can only remember the clouds... Until o ne evening, a suddenness, A stubbornness - My cat  l eapt up onto the lap  Of a lady  s aying  s he didn't like cats. F our legs cutting  feline, quick,   Wilful through all human feelings  And shoulds Landed through the fog Of what I could not feel - Here was  something I loved. And I laughed.  LJ Ireton 2023

The October wind Stroking the September Sun Whispers her potion LJ Ireton 2023

The season falls, I watch Without control The split and bounce of conkers Into the mist, The rain and covering of burnt orange Shed by the sun. The wind sweeps time up In front of me, Sailed on by a yellow wagtail - She still looks like Spring. But the squirrels are ready - Listening, claws sharp  And eager to dig. I'm not sure what I'm meant to let go of, Yet, Or what to search for  Under the wisps of this year, Settling. But maybe all things descending Will leave answers in my hands - Solid as shells, Green as the ivy always sure of herself - Maybe all things descending Will leave answers. LJ Ireton 2023