ammara

hello beloveds, its about time i re-introduce myself 🌼 my name is ammara (AHM-mah-rrah), a queer khmer witch-poet, artist, organizer, and space holder on duwamish land. im also an autistic lil bean who’s been disabled by long covid (+ still covid-ing). i’m grateful that y’all somehow found your way here across the interwebs to share virtual space with me.  my work is informed by transformative + healing justice + the land–i deeply believe that moving towards collective liberation and the world we dream of requires unlearning oppressive practices within our most intimate relationships. where dominant society tells us to dispose of and shame our grief, ancestral memory reminds us grief is our love fiercely wishing to flow into the world. to be rooted in tenderness is to be rooted in power–it is a portal to intimacy, to wholeness, to love, and i am all about nothing if not love.  plants are my muse, mentors, soul kin. i grew up speaking their language, making plant potions in the garden as a child and dreaming about being a medicine cat in the alternate universe of warriors (iykyk), to doing plant ecology fieldwork in undergrad and eventually learning herbalism (shoutout @hoodherbalism for initiating my journey). i remain awed whenever i hear them calling. they remind me of abundance, reciprocity, presence; what it means to be in right relationship. healing as our birthright. i honor my yeay whose plant knowledge was the reason my family survived genocide, and why i am here. my current practice in plant medicine is rooted in lineage, reconnection, memory, and so much joy (apothecary diaries is perhaps my new fav anime if only because maomao is me).  i’m hoping to collaborate more with folks in community and constantly looking to co-create x facilitate x hold space with others. don’t be afraid to reach out or say hi if you see me out in the world–my scorpio rising hides the fact i’m truly just a soft sensitive baddie who craves deep connection ♡ thank you for being here and receiving the medicine i have to offer. (🌱ive been moving on crip time--but catch me this saturday august 2nd at the queer summer market, cap hill aids memorial pathway from 12 - 6pm)

~homecoming ii~ the joy of khmer new year coincides with the grief of the khmer rouge era. been cocooning and spending lots of time caring for self these past weeks, but am emerging briefly to share the lil pieces of reflection that have been surfacing (albeit a lil late). just as the stories of land have always been part of my lineage, so has the experience of moving thru grief. there is deep love in my lineage that im learning to hold with the reverence it is owed. i will always be grateful to the plant kin and the land, who kept my family alive and who allowed me to be here today--whose spirit moves within all of us so that we remember where we truly come from and belong. we lost nearly everything when 90% of our artists were killed--but the land lives on and will never let us forget. fifty one years and counting. more on my substack, link in bio <3

update: order form for grief zines now live in my bio, feel free to share with your homies and loved ones ~ excited to share the first tender yarrow vending event of 2026 + a new zine!! covid grief diaries, pandemic love letters by melanated + bipoc kin, issue ii, holds so much tenderness, longing, and dreams. ive also reprinted a limited amount of issue i due to popular demand come find me this saturday in portland for the @aznzinefest with these babies fresh off the press + the most incredible lineup of artists--you don't want to miss out~

I think about care ~ fractals ~ so much and how tending to our relationships is fundamental to the worlds we want to build. I think about the question ji-youn asked in our processing rage course: "are we ready for a world where oppressive systemic institutions no longer exist? Do we know how to relate with each other in that world? Do we know how to not punish ourselves or each other when these systems no longer exist?" Care is connection--and very much tied to anti-violence work. This last month or so really clarified how personal it is for me, working with the intimate, the relational. My wish is that we all learn to commit more to care as anti-violence work, for we are mirrors of each other in seeding liberatory futures. Link in bio to read more ~

~an ode to the motherland and her fruits~ I remember first listening to "knowing your taste", a podcast recording by kalyanee mam, and being both so blown away and deeply seen. she explored the question of what it means for our hearts to know the soil, water, plants; and highlighted the khmer language as a place that reaffirms that we are forever connected and part of the land, wherever we are. 'ror cheate', or taste 'ror-ka cheate,' or flora 'thom-a cheate,' or nature 'pai-the cheate,' or country what does it mean to long for the taste of our ancestral homeland, to know it intimately? i think so much about the foods that nourished me, that perhaps were part of the medicine that tended to my bodymind and spirit in a way only our birth lands can do. i think so much about the fact that despite the fear of traveling back to cambodia because of my long covid symptoms, i did not experience a major body crash or flare up (w exception of the awful food poisoning). admittedly im still in awe of that fact. the land teaches us so much about care and love and healing, and i am forever grateful for its abundant blessings, for holding me in all my sick, mad, disabled, queer messiness, for remembering me still when we are oceans apart <3

oh to be full of love and grief. ive just returned from a 3-week trip to the homeland, and despite still being in recovery from ten days of severe illness, my heart is bursting at the seams. returning to the u.s. has me feeling like a part of my soul is missing, and admittedly every day ive been on the verge of a meltdown. being in the diaspora complicates so many aspects of grief, and there's sure to be art and poetry that will be emerging from me in the coming months, once ive had more time to process. one thing I will say is that i had so many thoughts and reflections on disability + care--i.e., the ease and safety i felt with so many people masking/the practice of masking being so normalized--and if you'd like to read more you can find the link to my substack in my bio. but now that im back, im finally able to pick up the projects id put on pause--still moving slowly, but submissions for the co-vid grief zine is still open until the end of the month, pls share with your community and homies <3 thank you for being here

~divine is the luminous dark~ im over halfway thru grief magic with @motherwortandrose and was particularly feeling into our last session diving into wintering, welcoming the descent into the underworld. i love being with the night, the silence and stillness. there's been a lot of fear of the shorter, darkening days, but im reminded that more time with darkness "means more time with the night sky, with rest, with dreaming, with firelight, starlight, candle light." i was reminded of the awe and magic of holding my breath and experiencing bioluminescence, and the aurora borealis, for the first time last year--recognizing that it is the dark that allows for these miracles to be witnessed. there is a spaciousness to exist, breathe a little more deeply, in this liminal space between worlds. there is something so lovely about the duality of the night--how it both shrinks and expands. our attention and presence is called to what is immediately around us as everything becomes smaller, and yet our senses open, and we dive into the womb, dreaming of possibilities and transformation. the dark prepares us for rebirth, and is a source of life. as we approach winter solstice, may you rest deeply, quietly, dream with the stars alongside the spirits, and bask in warm candlelight.

afloat~floating~ (a series on desolation and grief) depression has been a longtime friend of mine, but it hasn’t always been that way. for years, there was such a deep shame that something was “wrong” for feeling this way, and fierce resistance against numbness. because of it, i hurt not just myself, but loved ones around me. it was an arduous (and still ongoing) journey to recognize this embodied response as protective and loving, in the face of so much violence and harm, to reimagine it as not a flaw, but a natural weather pattern i’d move through like any other emotional state, and eventually find myself on the other side. i could talk for hours about this; i’ve learned there is wisdom in holding space for this fertile ground of possibility. cocooning in liminality, if only to offer a bit of space to breathe for a moment away from distraction. that we don’t always have to feel everything all the time. depression and si continue to be a regular part of my life, but instead of shame, i’ve embraced it as a part of me–a form of reclaiming agency over my bodymind in a world that seeks to control every part of it. to assert my will to live, and the sacredness of my life. it is powerful to resist our death phobic culture, and to dream of something better because we know deep in our bones and blood that living under colonial yt supremacy is not life affirming. we deserve more. drawn with abilene's wounds to woe, and bear mccreary's the veil of time as soundtrack <3

✨️ upcoming tender yarrow markets ✨️ @beaconartsseattle winter art fair sunday december 7th, 11am - 5pm centilia cultural center @gaycity queer winter market sunday december 14th, 12 - 5pm seattle lgbtq+ center (ill have a new batch of plant medicines ready for y'all who've been asking!) bring your homies, hope to see y'all there <3

🌊 tumbling 🌊 i started this sketch last year, when grief felt so heavy during my first time on medical leave. it was part of a series on water, and its teachings amidst desolatation and sorrow. i was in the deep trenches navigating long covid for the first winter, feeling overwhelmed, struggling, dealing w crash after crash, bedridden and miserable af. its uncanny that im on medical leave again, returning to this piece, while turning inwards to ask where it hurts, where the heart aches. what needs tending, what does my healing need? what does it mean to let go of holding others so much so that i might make space to hold myself in the way I deserve? it's so hard to remain boundaried and soft while fighting to protect your people and care for each other in this hellscape, because we are all we have. water has been reminding me of surrender as deeply important--that it sometimes takes you to where you need to go. im hoping to finish the rest of these water pieces to share with y'all soon. *drawn with abilene's "cascade" as soundtrack <3

every year, the salmon return. it’s a miracle, the way that they go out to sea, only to come back years later to the very place they were born, to offer their life force back to the land so that the cycle of rebirth may continue. as we close out scorpio season with this scorpio new moon, i wonder what are the things that emerge when we return to the spaces that have held us and nurtured us? what does returning home mean–look like, feel like, taste like, sound like? what parts of us are we ready to shed to prepare to be born anew? if we allowed ourselves to follow the current of surrender, to let the land, waters and cosmos guide us, what might we find? deeply grateful for our kin and their gift of anchoring us to the present ♡

so excited to have been invited to this showcase/reading. poetry has been so transformative in my healing journey this last year and a half, and would be such an honor to have y'all come receieve some medicine ✨️ hope to see you theree ~ Join us for Whispering the Future: a New Works showcase reading & performance featuring Asian and Pacific Islander diasporic writers & artists Featuring Ally Ang, nawa angel a.h., e*, Claire Kantner, Mita Mahato, Allison Masangkay, Ashley Miyagishima, Gwynne Siak, Ashley Topacio & ammara touch! Co-sponsored by Kundiman Pacific Northwest Wednesday, Nov 12, 2025, 7-10pm Common Objects, 2601 1st Avenue, Seattle, WA RSVP: bit.ly/nov12showcase