They say that smell Is your strongest sense When tied to memory.
That just a whiff of a smell Or even thought of a Smell can bring you back To a place and a time that You had previously Thought were left behind.
For me the smell of Bleach is comfort, as my Nanny used it as a Standard, household Cleaner. I love that smell As well as of my favorite Dinner, mildew (reminds me of summers spent At camp, living out of a trunk) and My favorite flowers
Each of these smells I Love to revisit time and Time again. One smell Though has embedded Itself in my memory and if I have my way, I’ll never Smell it again.
Mom had Colon cancer most Of my time in High school. No clue on the stage But it was best not To Ask
Surgeries, chemo, radiation, the Whole Nine
Things seemed to be fine, Well, even great Until it took a turn
My mom has never been Skinny; she is petite, but Normal
Suddenly she looked like A holocaust victim She would get quiet Draw into herself For periods of time
Another surgery. Fine She returned home And then something crept in
That something was death And I’ll never know how I knew You just know.
The smell of something Dying Isn’t pleasant It puts you on edge And turns your stomach
Mom was confident That she was getting better
The smell, that can’t Be described (dying tissue, pain Suffering) was glaring To me
I never asked Mom or Dad If they could smell it Because the smell of Death Isn’t a sense that should Be shared
I would just maintain that I didn’t think Something was right A day or so later
Surgery. Fine. Home. Smell.
Surgery. Fine. Home. Smell.
Surgery. Fine. Home. After that last Surgery. The smell Left. But even now When I think back To that time That complicated time of Soccer games Chemotherapy Apply to college Surgeries The one thing in the Foreground Is That Smell
Just a whiff of death Of human decay Of dying Of suffering And I’ve had my fill For a lifetime