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Smell
Sitting in the chapel, the candles
Burn brightly in front of us and I catch
A whiff of the burning, woodsy aroma from the wax
The evocative scent whisks me away -
Ten years old, with my grandparents,
Playing games and sitting around a fire
A Christmas Tree is lit but
Our happiness keeps the room warm
Everyone laughing and smiling
So much easier
Holding my breath for as long as I can
Afraid if I breathe out, the memory will leave
And it disappears, without warning
My heart goes still.
No grandparents.
No happy family.
No Christmas Tree.
No memory.
Where did it come from?
I want it back
The scent, the smoke from the candle,
It triggers another memory.
The Tree, it smelled the same way.
I haven’t seen my family in so long.
They’re gone, along with the memory
I ache to inhale another scent
To recall another story
But the smell withdraws
And my efforts are seemingly useless.
My hands – numbed and charred – remain as
A mark of my past life;
A life I can no longer recall.
A life I long to remember.
Moments and flashes of stories are evoked,
Told through scents and scars.
My story may be too tragic to tell.
Maybe I can still tell it, but without any words.
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Smell is a part of Senses, a collection of poems dedicated to our five senses. I love the idea of smell being a retainer of memory; very acute scents can trigger the barest wisps of memories. These memories also have a mind of their own – they don't like to stick around for too long, so we have to hold onto them whenever they arise.