‘Mama Amazonica’ is an example of how the transformative power of art can buffer pain and trauma. Petit renews, rebirths and reconstructs her relationship with her mother into something ethereal, shimmering and ultimately breathtakingly beautiful and wild. One senses in this collection that Petit is seeking closure with the pain and abuse inflicted upon her during her childhood (in ‘The Jaguar’, her final poem in the collection, she writes, ‘no one had been here before,/I would not come again.’) through direct and flagrant exposition.
The collection, dedicated aptly to her mother, provides a series of alter egos, personifications and masks for her mother (which both frees and constrains): the Victoria Amazonica Waterlily, the Macaw, a Doe, the Jaguar (an animal that personifies her rapist and her daughter too), the giraffe, a Wolverine, Hummingbirds are just a handful of examples. (Petit herself is often personified as a fawn and her father as a stag or wolf.) There is a reversal of roles at play here; Pascale is mothering her mother, in this collection she is generously and gently birthing a mother she can understand and consequently love; delving deep to unearth her mother’s love which is always just out of reach.
The poems flicker between mother and daughter’s point of views; both of them fragile, vulnerable, direct, hurt, angry, both of them victims of the same situation. There are numerous references to water and mirrors; both as reflectors as well as painful weapons (“She swims though the star-splinters/of a mirror” ‘Jaguar Girl’). ‘My Amazonian Birth’ shows how mother and daughter’s journey and destiny are one, fusing into each other, internalised through literary construct; “There she lies, her roots upended like jangled nerves/they’ll diagnose as anxiety/that slides into pychosis.//Butterflies jink over her trunk/even as her flesh rots/and blossoms with fungi - /your broken mama/laid out like a long-table//for the rest of your life to feast on.”
The background to these poems vary from rather grey, grim, oppressive woods, forests and zoos to the exotic, vibrant, colourful, wild, fertile danger of the Amazonian jungle – which is also claustrophobic - (and yet very symbolically these places of wilderness are associated with loss/being lost/abandoned to oneself in nature, as well as being places of quest). These are violent poems (danger lurks around each comma or line break!); the grotesque and innocence entwine (like in the Garden of Eden – indeed there are snakes/pythons moving their stealthily way through this collection too), often raw with the primal need for survival.
The language literally throbs and Petit’s use of alliteration provides pace and music (there are many references to birdsong scattered amongst the poems – it is like being absorbed by the wildlife), there are so many colours flashing through this collection, “emerald-rust armour” “rose-copper gorget” “crystal blue”.
This collection also takes on the universal plight of the fragile and delicate balance of nature, as well as our psyche, whereby external threats are imminent, highways and bulldozers threatening to plough through the Amazon; the important question of mankind playing havoc with the world and the terrible consequences of this.