Alone in the kitchen in the early morning
silence, whispering self-consciously, 
I speak to the yahrzeit candles, the ones 

the man I love kindled last night, at the 
beginning of the holiday, as he does at 
all the appointed times of the year 

remembering his father and mother
he lights in silence, needs no words to see
in the flames that love is not consumed

nor diminished by the passing of time.
I never spoke with his mother and father, they
died before I ever knew him, but I do know

that time will not diminish my love for him.
I want them to know this and so I 
whisper, I love your son, 
I am so very grateful.

©2023marthahurwitz