When you think the trees are many
For varied barks and branches
There appears to be
Really, it’s just one root, one tree

The sweet nut when shelled
Is poison to life
When bare and soft
Is solace, energy to strive

The fruit is pure silk
Yellow, red, orange
Then…

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Photo by Karine Germain on Unsplash

amongst digital stalls
where virtual sacks of spices
of rice of beans
were meant to be sold
silently but not quietly
every single one of them turned into disruptors
sellers of themselves
even those who looked
down on the capitalists
have gone into the business
and the market is saturated with all sorts
of product-less produce —…

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Photo by Pawel Nolbert on Unsplash

rebirth meant the regeneration of my cells
one by one and contradictory too their shedding
layers of my skin were peeled
descaled and left for shells of long-gone invertebrates by the shore
that was my freedom from the past
from everything that’s no more
then like a naked newborn
the sweet water of the sea…

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Photo by James Eades on Unsplash

Leaning into the waters that bathed
Those before me
I try to catch a glimpse of their faces
The women of long ago
Who tended the bed of this Earth
And like birds
Pollinated with their ancient voices
The ever resounding whisper of truth
That one day
I too
Will join them
And become the reflection
Of…

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Photo by Natalie Rhea on Unsplash

Why
I ask at night
Do I keep all my past selves
Pickled in a jar
Or jammed-up in conserve pots of glass
When the slightest glance at them
Makes me sick and beg I do of my
Present self not to be what
I used to be
But then during the day
I get hungry
For…

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Lena Buarque

Lena Buarque

Brazilian writer of fiction, poetry and essays | Creative Writing MA | Classics BA | Marketing Analytics whizz |Commended by Bristol Short Story Prize 2019