Smoke in Our Hair

Welcome back to sensory Saturdays! On Saturdays we send a poem that is packed with taste, smell, touch, and all of the sensory experiences that the pandemic takes away from us. This poem by Native American author Ofelia Zepeda gives us the smells and sounds of burning wood, the wind in her hair, and memories that remind her of home. We hope that whatever home you are in this weekend-- your own, someplace temporary, or your work home- that you are happy and safe.

---

Smoke in Our Hair

by Ofelia Zepeda

The scent of burning wood holds

the strongest memory.

Mesquite, cedar, piñon, juniper,

all are distinct.

Mesquite is dry desert air and mild winter.

Cedar and piñon are colder places.

Winter air in our hair is pulled away,

and scent of smoke settles in its place.

We walk around the rest of the day

with the aroma resting on our shoulders.

The sweet smell holds the strongest memory.

We stand around the fire.

The sound of the crackle of wood and spark

is ephemeral.

Smoke, like memories, permeates our hair,

our clothing, our layers of skin.

The smoke travels deep

to the seat of memory.

We walk away from the fire;

no matter how far we walk,

we carry this scent with us.

New York City, France, Germany—

we catch the scent of burning wood;

we are brought home.