Upon Hanukkah (Poem)

How many candles would I light this year,

And what would they mean?

When I last kindled just two for Shabbos, I wept.

What used to herald time set apart,

A space made holy by rest and community,

Now fills me with grief and loss.

Quietly, I put my menorah away.

Alone, how can I even contemplate this?

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