Hanukkah
Hanukkah to me is not just light,
But quiet courage burning through the night—
A stubborn flame that will not be undone,
Like whispers rising where hope has won.
It’s not just songs or latkes crisp and gold,
But stories passed, more precious far than sold.
Eight nights of memory in every spark,
A family’s laughter lighting up the dark.
It’s Grandma’s hands, worn soft from years gone by,
Spinning the dreidel ‘neath a wintry sky.
Her voice recalls the Temple’s sacred flame,
And how one cruse outdared the conqueror’s name.
It’s children’s eyes, wide with ancient pride,
As candles climb with love we can’t hide.
Each shamash lit, a guide, a spark, a key—
A tiny sun declaring: We are free.
Hanukkah to me is oil and awe,
The kind that helps a broken world restore.
Not just a victory carved in stone or scroll,
But every act that lifts the human soul.
It’s cooking joy in bubbling pots and deep,
The scent of love we don’t have time to keep—
Yet here, we pause. We bless. We kneel. We sing.
And in that pause, we find the strength to spring
Back into life with courage soft but bold,
For miracles aren’t just from days of old.
They’re in the way we love, forgive, and fight—
To kindle peace, to guard what’s true and right.
So when the menorah’s final candle gleams,
And shadows shorten into hopeful dreams,
I see not just the past, but what will be:
Hanukkah to me—is hope, and me, and thee.
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Author:
Friendship (
Offline) - Published: December 14th, 2025 06:13
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
Comments1
A seasonal poem of light, history and the present in hope and cheer for a new year. So well written and with a sense of warmth. Nicely written
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