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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 10, Number 2, June 2016

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Gerry Jacobson
Canberra, Australian Capital Territory, Australia


The Candles

Candles dripping long ago. Lighting up the darkness of childhood, the greyness of slum, the long winter nights. Warmth and security. I’m still a little prince playing with the dripping wax on Friday night.

so much joy
contained within
all that sorrow

Rejection. Rebellion. Restrictions meaningless to a teenager. Seeking a secular life of work and friends and travel. Desperate to be part of this world, to be out there, to be Australian.

Return in mid-life. Making a path. How it meanders. How it sings and dances. And eventually brings me to a celebratory Shabbat with Jewish friends at a retreat centre in the sandstone country. Tealight candles on a tray. Come up one by one and light a candle. Then the blessings for wine, for bread. The Shabbat songs. The shared meal.

his song
coming through me
forty years on

At the end of the evening I help tidy up. Thirty candles have melted and fused together. The tray is a mass of glowing wicks in a pool of hot wax.

entwined
in a dream
at dawn

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