At Chanukah Time

As Santa haunts the malls
and sales begin,
Christmas music blares
in ears that strain to hear above the din,
the silent sound of Jewish tunes
playing softly in the heart.
In ages past
before the war began,
we walked unconsciously into the night,
lost ourselves,
long before the fateful fight
brought the day,
and our people to the light.
We changed our names
and spoke the Grecian tongue,
acquired a taste for Aegean wine,
used painted plates that bore Athena’s face,
and sought to be,
citizens of the world.
Until the Maccabees rebelled,
shed the customs, clothes, and speech,
redeemed our Temple,
and lit the oil
that lasted eight long nights,
and two thousand years.
With that,
we morphed our faith into the home,
made a wine and culture of our own,
put pure food on simple plates,
and set ourselves a part
from those around.
Turn up the brightness in the Jewish soul.
Turn up the brightness so we can see
the blue and white in seas of red and green.
Turn up the brightness so we can see
the candle light through the window pane.

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