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light kindles light
night folds its endless hands—
shadows stretch & scatter
(aching)
for warmth
for a flicker.
a mother whispers prayers, her voice
a cradle—
soft syllables swaying
against the weight of exile’s wind.
one wick, then another—
then eight:
flames lean into each other,
(dizzy with hope)
(drunk with remembering).
oil scarce as breath,
yet its story unfolds:
a temple reclaimed
a heart unbroken.
the menorah blinks its quiet Morse code:
endure.
endure.
endure.
children spin tops—
letters clinking against the wood—
(miracles inscribed
in the simplest of things)
while fathers tell tales that climb
the walls like vines, rooting in
tomorrow.
each candle rises like a soldier—
small,
steadfast.
above, the stars watch,
silent witnesses to a people
who (always)
remember how to
make light.
Copyright ©
Joel Hawksley
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