by Magda Nawrocka-Weekes


The long days all settle
Splinter bushes hung from trees
Hot air southerned passage
Dense fronds, formed faces
When I awoke my tongue
Turned black, fine ash
My hands spread in sun
To catch it glowing green
In between my toes
Spread mulch, wood chips
For my bath, my tea
I drained a swamp
In a chipped china mug
Floated by were strands,
Leaves and former skins of mine
Noxious gas, fresh brewed
Compost coffee

Rhode Island

This is going to be one of those years
that adds a ring to your core
cut you open and see
what you have grown through
pavement cracks, brittle walls
you have moved stone
broken bridges, mended wounds
you have stretched, became
exhausted and kept going still
shake the pavement
change the rivers course
tare down just to build again
you are new shoots
old roots and darling
you need time.

Magda Nawrocka-Weekes | 
Magda is an amateur writer, currently working to regrow Coral Reefs in Mexico where she has also befriended a raccoon and several iguanas. She loves science, folklore and the stuff in between and, like all millennials, has an ever-growing collection of miscreant house plants…

Support Dear Damsels

Words are empowering – not only for the women who write them, but those who read them too.

Join our Patreon and help us continue to offer an inclusive and welcoming space for women to come together, share their words, and get a resounding response back.

Sign up to our Patreon