BH

The house is small
Only two rooms
Lumpy bed
Wooden table
A single chair
A blanket of blackness

But then she comes
Dressed in white
Headscarf covering her hair
A regal queen

A matchstick in her hand
Strikes against the coal
Touches the waiting wick
A flame jumps forward
Reaching upwards
And suddenly

The room is an aura of bright light
Full of sparkling jewels
Shining pearls
The air is charged
Holiness charged

Her hands wave over the flames
One two and three
Covers her eyes
She prays
Sways
Beseeching to her Creator
A private time

Tears streaming from her eyes
Traveling down her face
Asking her Father
For help, support, everything she needs
And wants

It is years later
In Manhattan, New York
A young woman living in a big apartment

With large spacious rooms
A luxury bed
A cherrywood table
Many elegant armchairs
Epitome of richness

She is full
She is happy
Or so she thinks

But every Friday night
No candles are lit
The darkness is still there
Waiting to be extinguished
By those flickering orange lights

Her grandmother on high
Looks down, prays
Hopes with all her heart
That one day soon
She will strike that match

And light those candles
Just like her grandmother did
All those years ago

Friday afternoon
Rushing down the street
In all the crush of humanity

A young girl stops her
Eyes wide and innocent
She is holding two tea lights

Excuse me are you Jewish?
She asks
The young woman is shocked
Reminded of her past
Her heritage
Tries to find her voice
But no sound emerges

Yes, yes I am
She says loud and clear
I am Jewish
The girl hands her the candles
Tells her with a smile
Light these every Friday night
Help bring more light
Into the world

Friday night she stands
Eighteen minutes before sunset
Sets up her tea lights
On her cherrywood table

A matchstick in her hand
Strikes against the coal
Touches the waiting wick
A flame jumps forward
Reaching upwards
And suddenly

The room is an aura of bright light
Full of sparkling jewels
Shining pearls
The air is changed
Holiness charged

Her hands wave over the flames
One two and three
Covers her eyes
She prays
Sways
Beseeching to her Creator
A private time

Tears streaming from her eyes
Traveling down her face
Asking her Father
For help, support, everything she needs
And wants

And her grandmother on high
Looks down at her
And smiles

Rochel Danow, Age 16
Lubavitcher Girls School
Illinois, USA