Lighting a candle
Lighting a candle for you,
it's the one thing I can do.
My prayers soar to the heavens,
in my mind, but I'm not sure the stars hear.
And by comparison with your Majesty,
suns are stars,
and stars are small things.
can you hear me?
Magnified and sanctified is your name,
but I can't even pronounce it right.
And I fear such shepherds as I've seen,
See me as a mere sheep.
Do I hear you? Did you call?
My pastures are parched,
where is the clean water?
What evil have I done?
Was it in some past existence,
and I exiled here?
Rachel cries for her children no more.
She is at peace at last out among the green grass
where other peaceful beings graze
in the ethereal haze at the edge of imagination.
But here I see stones and grass.
And sadness beyond belief.
Yes I will bless you Universe,
until I can bless you no more.
Exalted and honored is your name.
What an honor it is to be here,
lost in space and time.
You are beyond my understanding,
and beyond my reach,
you are with my other loved ones.
In a place I cannot go.
By the waters of eternity
you rest in comfort and ease,
and I look at the stars above in desolation.
May he who reigns in the world beyond,
where you rest peacefully and secure,
grant us peace in this sad material place
we call Universe.
I'd give all that up to see you again.
How can a rod and staff comfort me?
they can only inflict pain,
and send one to error again.
But I know the metaphor in its culling sense.
I too go to be sheered or to rest beside her.
When will you be done testing us poor ignorant beings?
And guide us to something better?
I'd go with you willingly to be with you again.
I pursue goodness and love, and they elude me.
If I accept the rod and staff, will I feel comfort?
Oh to be a black sheep or a white sheep,
and not know good and evil as I weep.
Maybe if I don't run away they'll pursue me?
I know the clouds will lift, but you are gone.
Christopher H. Holte, First yartzeit