Poetry: A Day In The Life by Miranda S Eisen

“Veeeegan” they say with bitter distaste

It’s not a point of pride or possible discussion to influence behavioural change

It’s a belief put into practice but remains silent until confused fingers point at your lunch

Even then requiring the bare minimum of explanation

It’s my impassioned, youthful voice aching my mother’s head as she orders a BLT

Smiling through the jokes while knowing they too cringe at the sight of slaughterhouse videos

Feeling weary because people agree – no animal deserves that

But watching their eyes roll at any reminder of their omelette’s origins

Vegan means living in an ideological world that constantly judges, misunderstands, belittles “Vegan” in the air means persecution to the rest

Admitting through snide comments they know there is another path

But that path is “restricting”

“What about my morning muffin?”

Not freeing

“New muffin, less brutality”

Named me Scout because learning how to be a good person is life’s most important lesson

But apparently putting yourself in others’ shoes has its genetic limits

Realizing that a strong moral compass is only recognized when it relates to others sense of morality

A hormonal teenage boy paying $5 for a girl not to kiss him is bravery

Abstaining from exploitation a nuisance

It’s so easy to hide behind the arousing smells, the masked flavours, the new names

But choosing an ice cream cone at the dairy looks different than it always used to

In rocky road, I see the forced implantation

Needles and hands in action without consent

In cookie dough crunch

A cow wailing from the separation of her calf

In mint chocolate chip

The anxiety and fear of a creature not permitted to turn around or sit

Roast beef on the table now a sadistic, twisted funeral of a carcass no one recognizes

A glass of milk – a life I’ve stolen

These remnants in so much we consume

Once a body pleading to survive

All life the same

In their eyes I see us, their pain unwarranted

Friends enraged on social media about the Yulin dog meat festival while warming a chicken pot pie for dinner

Labelling difference where there is none

Dividing arbitrary categories of right and wrong so nothing must change

Our common sense is deemed compassion

Such compassion propaganda or sentimentality

“I could never stop” incites a deep sigh of frustration

The system convincing its subjects they have no free will to resist

But the pain persists

At the end of a long day we deserve that burger and chocolate shake, but do they?


Poem Written by Miranda S Eisen


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