Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘candle’

Shabbat

for Peter and Lisa

 

 

We covered our eyes with our hands

and repeated the sacred words that Peter said,

blessing the pomegranate juice, blessing

 

the challah bread. And when we were done

with the prayer, we removed our hands

from our eyes and the candlelit world

 

was surprisingly bright. Such a simple faith,

kindness. The willingness to invite another in,

to make them bread, to offer them soup,

 

to say to the other, Here. Feast. Rest. To share

ancient stories and offer new wisdom.

To pass the braided bread, hand to hand,

 

and eat it together. To listen to each other

until the candles had burned through all their wax.

To continue to listen after the light goes out.

Read Full Post »

Perhaps a Chance

 

 

It’s not that way with all things. Some that go are gone.

            —A.R. Ammons, “Eyesight”

 

 

And so it is that

even after the candle flame

is gone, yes, after

the flame is gone,

the carbon and unburned

wax vapor in the smoke

will still combust when touched

by a match, will travel down

the smoke and reignite

the wick. It sounds

like magic—looks like it,

too, a small ball of flame

dropping bright through the air.

So tonight when

my friend sends me

a video of just such

a marvel, I play it

again and again.

And all the burned out

wicks in me stand up

just a little bit straighter

and I stare at them

to notice if there is

still any smoke, and

my god, if I don’t just

run to the drawer

and find me

a box of matches,

their sticks brittle,

their tips as red

as hope.

Read Full Post »

 

 

 

all day, the candle’s light

almost invisible, all day

I think of the girl

in the hospital, all day

to the light that is, adding more light

Read Full Post »

 

 

and so we rise in darkness

and let our bodies move

without the blare of light.

The house is still and we

are somehow changed

by stillness, changed

by dark. As if we’ve

grown pads in our feet.

As if we are learning

a new silent language

with our limbs, a language

more graceful, more awake.

We find candles. Find

matches. Let the tiny lights

find us. For a thousand years

in Egypt, they wrote

and rewrote The Book

of Emerging Forth into the Light,

a series of writings we somehow came

to call The Book of the Dead.

All the spells were written

to help the dead person journey

through hostile forces

into the afterlife.

And this morning, we

are our only obstacles.

Still, the candles

are a bit like spells,

guiding us with their brilliant ink

toward dawn. There

are no warnings, no judgements,

no naming of evil spirits.

Only this new language

to learn with its syntax

of carbon, it etymologies

of shadow, its phonemes

of coming light.

 

Read Full Post »

One Example

 

 

 

the candle runs out—

knowing this, the wick

burns no less bright

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: