Child Refugee – Photo by UNICEF
The scent of home that she no longer has.
The spices, baking, the aromas
Of togetherness
And family
And love.
The scent of grandma,
Gone,
Killed by bombs.
The scent of ugliness
And war.
The scent of mornings
Blurred by smoke.
The scent of sea, now tainted
With the stink of gasoline
And sick
And worry.
The scent of tent
And mud
Hunger
Cold.
The scent of hope
Faint but held
In Baba’s handkerchief —
He said he’ll find them
One day
In Wherever Land.
The scent of fear
In mother’s arms
Trying to filter comfort through her own terror
Devastation. Loss.
The scent of home that she no longer has
Wafting away
In search
Of someone
Who will help
Her
Make a new one.
Na'ama Yehuda 