Lioness, outside The Garden
Lioness, outside The Garden
Not all is lost -
my lion walks loyal beside us.
She was where I lay my head
under the low stars,
in the uncomplicated, verdant heart
She was where I lay my head
under the low stars,
in the uncomplicated, verdant heart
of living;
where ground-wings opened to
pink and perfume
ever-present.
He called her Ariel. I call her Ari.
She carries the star-thrum energy
of earth newly created;
all fire eyes and focus,
yellow allegiance,
claws on instinct.
Whereas I -
I can't stop thinking.
She carries the star-thrum energy
of earth newly created;
all fire eyes and focus,
yellow allegiance,
claws on instinct.
Whereas I -
I can't stop thinking.
I leave our tent;
bark and stem like praying hands
and rest on her sand-coloured fur -
She is still the same;
four-legged land of the horizon,
muscles of vine and forehead of moss,
a head that moves like water around
a river bend -
a moving, prowling garden.
No, not all is lost.
bark and stem like praying hands
and rest on her sand-coloured fur -
She is still the same;
four-legged land of the horizon,
muscles of vine and forehead of moss,
a head that moves like water around
a river bend -
a moving, prowling garden.
No, not all is lost.
LJ Ireton, 2024
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