Literary Vegan

Disappointment comes - Putting my hand out for falling stars  That called to me - Then they miss. Water can burn - The sting  Of you not liking The beautiful thing I did.  Then someone will see me, In my creation And I walk through the hurt Into the universe I was meant to live in. LJ Ireton 

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 

Let's go for a drink, you said Dangling our whole relationship  In a five word thread above The pub door More than you'd said in days. I always hoped,  Always,  Saw mistletoe when you smiled - White berries for red warnings And every mistake That flowered too late In my mind. Where was I then? The girl who holds the World in her words, Suspended my time waiting for yours -  I wish I'd poured that drink over your head. LJ Ireton  

The raindrops are ticks of their own clock Time drips by when you're watching And the seconds make no sense Which is why Storms can be comforting A lull of irregular beats When you stop Marching. LJ Ireton

There are those who have waited Ugly long years to become a butterfly  Too afraid to lift a wing at first -  But learning their arms now Flare with flags like a herald's trumpet, Cannot help but flash every colour In defiance against plain glass Staining it with the blue-green joy Of becoming,  The red of being,  Sealing the waiting cracks with amber A benevolent balm, A hint. And there are those who don't like it. They do not understand lightness In a heavy world, surrounded by stones. You say, 'neither did I, I carved waves and eyes marking time before my flight'. But you are fanciful, they say. And so you fold your wings, Become a furious line Of amber gold Remembering Every single time you weren't yourself And this time you fly With resistance  And all the more Reason.  LJ Ireton