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141,399 Literary Works • 674,389 Reviews
amma = the tamil word for mother
text version:
Spoiler
amma, i want to shine for you.
i want to string the jasmine into garlands and
plant them in your hair, and
breathe in your warm scent, always the same
since i was small. you promise me,
i will always be family. i'll always hear the exception
you never voice aloud.
you held my hand as i walked past
the victoria's secret at the mall, where
i snuck my stares from between my pinched eyelids.
before i knew the feeling of a woman underneath
my fingertips, before i knew what love was,
i like to think i always knew, and that you
never noticed.
teach me how to crumble cardamom
like you do into tea. measure the ginger
with the pad of your thumb and let me
cut my palm open using that big old knife
you use to crush it. i will oblige you.
you watch me fall and call it girlhood. my knees
all scraped-up before you bandage them,
at the altar of something you never taught me existed.
oh, i am no better than a man. i only dress it
in admiration.
i want to learn how you became so,
so beautiful. worship at something you choose for me
and hang the jasmine from your grey hair.
am i family? am i really?
forever? no matter who i am, who i choose?
chem, your poems always make me want to cry (in a good way)
awwwwwwweeeeee thank you so much that means a lot <3
I like the imagery you chose, it brings us to almost a flower field but settles you into pavements on the streets with reality. There's the use of Amma for mother, that makes it sensitive, vulnerable, the depiction of the love between a daughter and a mother veiled by words to protect what's really underneath. The truest form of love. Comparison of the dreamlike, delicate images to ordinary day to day memories, a lived experience, not idealized, intimacy through the smallet of things that someone taught you. "the exception you never voice aloud", the introductonary of a quiet distance, even though you are loved, is it truly yours? We don't understand "Amma" in the way you may, undirectly said in the poem, human. Remeberance of a mothers nostalgia, the things shared, carried, left unsaid, a version of yourself that existed beside, underneath, above and around her. The language of love you've woven has existed since childhood, a declaration of discoverance found through the fragments surrounding you all along.
Beautiful piece, thank you for letting us read it <3
A very sensative and sweet poem. The use of the tamil word for mother "amma" you say, makes it feel very much more personal and sentimental. Such a simple an effective follow up "i want to shine for you". A very metaphorical phrase that benefits from its own simplicity.
I love the cyclicality of the jasmine flower from the second line being "i want to string the jasmine into garlands" and the second to last being "and hang the jasmine from your grey hair." A most beautiful flower.
My favourite sections are the ones that are warm and cosy, and that have imagery of things with such connotations, like the jasmine flowers being turned into garlands, or the cardamom tea with ginger. The latter bends into this self harm, beautifully romantised as love and self sacrifice in the way of showing love for the mother; not only cutting yourself to suffer for them, but also cutting yourself with a precious object you associate with her; all the ginger and the cardamom that are so fond line the blades edge, it's as if you want to be drowned in it all, through this cathartic hyperbole. It's my specifically favourite part.
This was a tender poem, and it probably has more to say than I could ever do it justice, seeing as it's quite a personal subject. From what I'm feeling though, it's short of many flaws.
<3
<333333333333
Hey there, chem! This is Alex, here to review your poetry after quite some time now. Let's get into it ~
Beginning with amma was such a cultural hit, it sounded like a sweet call of a child to her mother and instantly got my attention. Mother is the sweetest word in every language, good for you- using it to your advantage like this.
I like how effortlessly you shift the narrative hair- to the pretty imagery of flowers and an endearing daughter who wishes to adorn her mother in them, to a promise of love made to her that she is afraid might not hold forever. Like one of the things you just say and don't mean, and the daughter has her reasons to suspect that possibility. Shattering writing, and that's saying less!
There's no unique queer experience, is there? I steal glances at the passing guys on each of my evening strolls with mom, I've also wondered if she ever noticed. Did she ignore it just because she didn't want to live that truth? Ugh, this was painful relatable..
This really heals all broken queer hearts, I feel. Most of us have been lying to ourselves for ages before we finally came to terms with it, I'm impressed at how beautifully you captured that. It's quiet acceptance, of something that was once our worst fear.
I don't usually drink chai, but love to make it for my mother. The level of peace this imagery gave me! The way we intuitively measure the ingredients, I've definitely inherited them from mother as well.
This part was a little lost to me, why is he narrator asking for how to cook one second and cutting her palm the next? And what does she exactly 'oblige'? It reads good but and strong with a striking contrast, but the message could be more clear.
THIS!! The narrator struggling to navigate a world her mother didn't tell her about is such a real and heartbreaking situation. The firm tone of the latter line seems to be a nod to their masculinity, something felt got across really well.
The subtle jabs are everything in this poem! It seems the narrator would've wished for something different than their mother does, and it's really no surprise. I want to believe the mother is at least wishing for success and happiness for her, but it's possible that she's asking for her sweet daughter to turn back to the way she thought she always was. And if that's indeed a prayer, that'd be big! Especially considering the daughter probably would've prayed for love or her mother's acceptance instead.
But despite all the silent resentment, she continues to want to put Jasmines on her, I wonder if it's a symbol for her love that the mother doesn't seem to care about. That'd be genius!
I could feel the break here, ahhhhhh it's too good. The last and first parts of these cited lines washed over with such force. The fear of abandonment is obvious and aching. It's like she's putting her mother on the stand asking if her promises are indeed true. But then again, the daughter is the real victim here who must be teary eyed going through this, running the possibility of everything that could go wrong in her head.
This was remarkable work, chem. You've outdone yourself once again, it really brings out the simple challenges that come with being queer. Reading this was worth every single minute, thank you for sharing . That's all I have for, please keep writing such great poems. Until next time ~
Much love, Alex
The imagery in this poem is just so tenderly beautiful. The jasmine, the warm scent, sneaking a peek at Victoria's Secret, fingertips, cardamom, ginger, cutting the hand, falling, grey hair; it's like I am looking at your childhood memories through a looking glass. The light is bouncing off them, and the memory keeps escaping, but I can imagine what it smells and feels like. What a wonderful thing to achieve in a poem. The language is so kind, and gentle, and reads like a calm, warm breeze on a summer's day.
I feel the love shining through for your Amma. It sounds like the had a massive influence on your life growing up.
I think that is my favourite stanza. Grey hair (in western culture at least) is often something people fear and try to cut or dye away. I think this highlights how beautiful it is to age and experience enough, that your hair is like a trophy of your time. And how you pair wanting to worship something she chooses for you with then hanging jasmine from her grey hair evokes a feeling of pure respect and love for your Amma for everything she has taught you.
And this ending really closes the poem in a way that shows your awe, like you can't quite believe this woman is your family, no matter who you are and who you choose (to love, i assume, if we look back to the second stanza)
<3 wonderous