The smell of the trees in our garden
The smell of the rocks in the mountains
The smell of the streets in our homeland
    The streets in which we are killed, day after day
The smell of our corpses
The smell of wounds and lost bones
The smell of covert hiding places
The smell of missing children’s clothing
        The smell of children who the mothers search for in the streets
These smells tell countless stories, give hope to weeping mothers
With the smells remains the hope that the missing will return