By Prem Sylvester
The whiff of eucalyptus oil
reminds me of the nights
my mother sought to soothe my reddened nose
with its healing effervescence,
the woody fragrance flowing through me
as a clear stream in the hills would,
freeing my clogged nostrils;
healing me
I still keep a bottle of eucalyptus oil
by my bedside.
Its aroma reminds me of the hills
where everything seems so clear,
and I am reminded of you –
you who comfort me,
you who help me breathe;
you who help me heal
Prem Sylvester is a writer from India who turns into words the ideas he catches a whiff of from time to time. Sometimes people read these words. His work has appeared in or is upcoming in Memoir Mixtapes, Rigorous, Rising Phoenix Review, and Anti-Heroin Chic, as well as in national media platforms like The Hindu and Buzzfeed India.