Huỳnh Như wrote this poem in the aftermath of the 2021 Atlanta shooting. “When I first read the headline” says Như, “my first thought was my mom and aunties—all nail technicians. That week, as news coverage of the shooting poured in, as my friends and I checked in on one another, as I called my mom to tell her not to come in to work, a hole grew in my heart. A lightning bolt had struck my community and there was so much pain in and around me.”
Inspired by Ocean’s Vuong’s letter to his mother in the New York Times, this is for mẹ lives online as a borderless mailbox for Asian identified people to share stories rooted in mothers, motherhood, motherlands, mother-tongues and family.
I would have
chosen
flowers based on what they smell like.
known
how to tell my daughter how I feel.
gone
to work and come home.
I would not be blamed for the illness in another person’s heart.
gone
to buy white lillies for someone else’s mom.
known
to tell you I’m proud of you.
chosen
flowers based on what they smell like.
I would have
Contributor’s Bio
Huỳnh Như was born in Florida, where her mom immigrated in 1990. She likes watching late 90s/early 00s anime, reading stories, and making people laugh. She studied computer science in college and now codes for a living. She hopes to write a book one day.
Thanks for sharing! Inspiring!
Thanks so much Jyotika! That means a lot 🙂