soft light, burning still
a celebration of persistence and quiet joy
a homemade almond and vanilla cake,
with 18 different decorations,
collected over the years,
neatly arranged into a scene of little kids playing.
a playground,
a dog,
an elf,
some flowers,
and almond-shaving snow.
a million candles and sparkles
and loud voices
the scent of pine in the air.
it's sunset time and still hot,
the cicadas fanning themselves,
singing along to the happy birthday song.
the candles are the ones you blow on 100 times
but don’t go out.
like me, i thought.
i thought i’d be steel by now
like my first-grade teacher wished.
but i’m soft
and burning like the light,
the one that doesn’t go out,
despite life trying.
and now she basks in the light,
rejoices in the fact that somewhere out there,
there is a light going for 28 years,
warming the hands of a love,
that she tried so hard for.
now we sing in three different languages,
a single candle on a chocolate cupcake.
you blow it out on the first try.
the smoke twirls around itself,
ascending to the sky,
for the wish you just made to reach
(the) god(s).
and that’s it.
Such grounding presence, thank you!