The Root of It All
Sprouting wild, untamed
Root-knotted, born from the earth
Cradled by the soil
Fed by the rain
Growing to multiply,
so you become infinite.
So you take many forms:
Whole, bold and unbroken.
Crushed beneath a blade
Paper thin slices
Or minced into nothingness
Yet, you still remain.
You are resilient.
No matter how many times we break you
Your flavors just grow stronger
Charred on a pan until golden and fragrant, your scent filling up the room.
Your skin, thin as parchment,
peels in curls like the vines from your home,
Like a brittle husk,
shucked away to reveal your puzzle of cloves ---
Each nestled tight,
Each holding history is tucked between them,
offered as medicine and protection.
You aren't just seasoning,
You distinguish the superior,
From the standard. You are most beautiful in your purest form
Yet even a harsh flame cannot tame you,
it just transforms you.
Tender cloves frying in oil,
Sizzle, snap, simmer ---
Melting down, and softening enough to cut through like butter
Something like to no other,
A rich, deeply layered, sweet flavour cuts the garlic's previous strength.
Some call you vulgar,
The culprit of bad breath,
All because your essence demands attention.
You are the pulse in a pan,
A spark in bland dishes,
Every kitchen’s backbone.
Your memory lingers,
Like your potency in the air,
Etched into a cutting board,
Etched into each recipe,
Etched into our lives.
In my poem, I used garlic to symbolize resilience in cultural legacy, illustrating its importance beyond the kitchen and more in a generation-legacy context. Much like Acevedo, who in With the Fire on High portrays food as a connection to emotion, I illustrate garlic as "the pulse in a pan" and "Every kitchen's backbone," emphasizing its essential role in cooking, and familiar and foundational flavours adding familiar elements for the reader. The word connotation with pulse suggests and almost mirrors the energy of garlic’s potency, how its strength is what completes a dish. Connecting back to my central theme of garlic being foundational in many cuisines, I mirrored its purpose and essential role in cooking. In poems like "Ode to the Onion" and "Ode to the Okra," food is used as a symbol of resilience and strength over time. One poem that particularly inspired me was "Ode to the Onion.", While taking inspiration from the poems structure I began to "dig under the earth" like Neruda, using natural elements to explore the historical significance and abundance of garlic, referencing his line about "duplicating the magnolia" (Neruda, lines 8 and 20). Just as Neruda honors the onions by peeling back its layers, I used the garlics physical structure to represent the layered cultural identity of the allium. In the poems we read in class, simple ingredients are elevated into symbols of resilience, which inspired my depiction of garlic as something that grows stronger the more we break it. Even through struggle, garlic prevails. Its shape does not erase its flavor. Much like the orange zest Emoni tastes in her risotto, which “adds a bright note,” garlic brings that brightness, though its potency doesn’t shy away from making its presence known (Acevedo, 177). Much like Acevedo, I aimed to shed light on garlic's importance, and how it demands attention to just its flavors. By the end of my poem, I use repetition to show garlic's legacy and permanence. The repetition of “etched” symbolizes how its memory is carved into our lives and societies, much like how its smell lingers on surfaces like knives and cutting boards—its potency seems to never leave, nor does its legacy. In conclusion, my poem elevates something ordinary, analyzing its elements to appreciate its versatility and endurance. Both Acevedo and Neruda elevate ordinary ingredients to represent deeper themes of resilience, whether emotions or historical, which mirrors how my poem celebrates garlic's undying spirit, reflecting on how it's often the most unassuming or abundant things that are the most essential.