No Madonna and Child could touch
Her tenderness for a son
She soon would have to forget. . . .
The air was heavy with odors of diarrhea,
Of unwashed children with washed-out ribs
There is a delicacy about the two lines. The  alliterative  ’t’s and soft ’s’s create a whispering effect, as if she were soothing her little boy.
A Mother In A Refugee Camp