baltimoreblackwoman

“For all the saints 

From whom their labors rest”

–William Walsham How (1864)

At eventide I drove west,

blinded by the setting sun,

to a Candlelight Vigil 

for six Israeli souls liberated 

from cruel captivity

by merciless death.

 

In a beautiful courtyard 

built to be a sacred, 

yet open space 

for a Synagogue 

and its community,

we gathered quietly,

 

greeting each other warmly 

on this strangely cool

September evening.

Setting up chairs

in a double circle 

like a rainbow after a fierce storm,

 

we each took a candle 

and a printed program,

and took our seats.

Songs and prayers

in Hebrew filled the air,

as the Sun finally set in the West.

 

Six of us, of whom I was the last,

read brief biographies 

of the six hostages

freed cruelly in death.

Young men and women, 

their bright promise and gifts

 

ripped apart by bullets 

in a tunnel,

hours before their promised freedom.

We sang and prayed their souls 

back to Eden.

 

A few of the gathered 

shared their bewilderment 

and grief in brief–

a poem here, a vivid memory there,

the collective silent wail, 

Why?

 

At the end of the hour,

we packed up the chairs,

boxed up the candles,

said our good nights,

and drifted away to our homes,

Leaving the courtyard

As we’d found it:

A beautiful, sacred 

open space 

ready to welcome all

to embrace.