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10/11/11 - (1)
Yahrzeit Candles
After my mother had taken leave of her leave-taking, Linda and I stepped outside my parents' house, Into the wider quietude of October's fading autumnal twilight, Relieved that my mom had finally achieved her comforting release, Both of us at peace with the peace we knew she'd accepted.
On our way to late dinner, we stopped at the grocery store, To buy a pair of white Yahrzeit candles, Which, on returning home, I placed on her buffet and lit, Just where, Friday night, Linda had burned three of them, In a Yom Kippur commemoration of her parents and husband.
All evening, I awakened from sleep, as if entranced, For no reason other than to walk past those soft, lambent lights, Listen to them illuminate each other, in their flames' dialogue . . . No reason other than to envision my father and mother Finally united, after almost nine years of yearning.
10/11/11 - (1)
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