Aurochs to Zorra

Chandlery

Chandlery


We sit in rows:
tall and slim, fat and round,
encased in glass or gently placed.
Our desires soft
with heat of day,
rigid cold at night.

We wait until
we are of some brief use,
to sit on mantel, by the bed.
Picked from among our brethren
that await their day of sacrifice.

Our light is hidden in the wax.
The fragrance trapped
in hues of floral dye and stain,
where flame is tamed.

Release us, then,
with touch of love to wick
to see the passion flame.

We’ll weep in dribbles,
each drip a joy,
to brighten eyes to beauty.

Our sacrifice to knowledge
you must learn tonight.
We’ll dance in yellow, orange and blue,
for moments just another light at night,
guttered ere the break of dawn.

We sit in rows
behind the doors
we wait for you to open.
Sacrifice our prayer for you,
this and every night.


© Kåre Enga

chandlery: a storeroom where candles are kept