Tonight is my Father, Sidney Black's (z"l) first yahrtzeit. As I was leaving the house this morning, I said to Sue - we need to light a yahrtzeit candle. We didn't have any in the house - we'd never had to light one before. This poem is a reflection on this realization.
On lighting a yahrtzeit candle for the first time…
This glass jar
Should be filled with Jam –
Made from plums plucked from trees
Planted by those who never thought they’d taste
The fruit of their labors.
This candle
Should be saved for when the power goes out –
Bringing light to the darkness
Warming the hearts and souls of all who gather
round its flame.
This match
Should be lighting firecrackers, pinwheels and
whizzing gewgaws
Spreading delight in the eyes of children and
those who love them.
These tears
Trace a path down my cheek
Etched in
Memories of eternity.
Yitgadal V’yitkadash
