The Christmas Candle

I
am
jostled
from my nap.
Has it been
a year already?
Darkness fades
as my faded linen
blankets are
unwrapped.

Almost reverently (as it should be)
she places me.
Reunited
with my brass base, my holder,
my other half. It feels so connected
to be securely hugged once again.

She looks older this year,
my current lighter. But not too old,
not yet. She has time. She says
I seem shorter than she remembers,
wonders who will outlast whom as she
straightens me, rubs my skin red
with her calloused thumb.

I shrank but a minute!
I feel a flare of temper, but then I sigh.
This, this will be my
one hundred and thirty-seventh
brightening. She is only sixty-eight.
She can't understand.
My heart beats to a different rhythm.
My spine isn't bent, it stands
straight and true.

But then,
the lighters come and go,
mother to daughter over time.

Still, I never know,
one unwrapping to the next,
who will unwrap me. When the lighter
dims, another takes her place,
her features similar, but different
from the preceding ones.
Connected still.
I miss the ones from before.
Each becomes a part of me.
I cry waxen tears; hot, burning hot
tears for those lights now gone.
She doesn't know. Each bit of me
that melts away are for them.

I watch from my place
centered
where they hold
the gathering.
I can see their tree by the front window,
real this year, covered in lights--
pale imitations of my brightness, my warmth.
But then, I truly glow
for but a moment, just long enough
to bestow my blessing upon them.

I watch as she wraps presents in stiff paper,
places cloth ribboned bows on each.
The coverings glitter and shine,
but seems, to me, at least,
cold and hard. I much prefer
how she wraps me: in soft years past,
linen calendars worn to silk from washing.
Years fly by when I sleep;
tis only now I live.

Does she know I absorb her emotions?
That my wax shines brightly
polished by her words and dreams?
That my flame grows brighter
year to year, fed by love ongoing?


They Gather. No one missing.
A new young face, a new generation.
It is time.
Long-sticked match ignites me.
I glow, sending my light
out to encompass them all
in my Christmas Blessing.

For I am their light
chasing away the darkness
for another year. For sixty seconds
I enfold them in brightness
and tis reflected in their smiles.

For one brief minute, I light their way
but it is all the time I need.
Then
with a puff of breath,
my light is
extinguished,
yet never really put out.
For my blessing has been given
and that light always shines.

I reign here
where they gather
til the time comes
and she will wrap me carefully
and put me back in the trunk.
Once again
I have carried out my mission.
I am content to rest, to gather my strength
for the next time. for the next brightening.