The 24th of Kislev was about to end, dusk was falling

I recognized your face

from more than four cubits away, six feet

You wore blue and I wore green

We sat down on a white bench

near the playground of your past

One by one the children left

stars came out and darkness settled in

You said the words I needed you to say

Your arms around me

beneath your light down coat, your heart

that will love someone else

As we parted ways to kindle light and sing

the blessing for having reached this point in time

you called out to me – This piece of garment

on the ground, does it belong to you? It didn’t

Hefker, you said and smiled, maybe you did

Maybe I smiled

Hefker, like us, I thought

We are lost, we are set free, we can be claimed by anyone

From the collection Book of Failed Salvation, forthcoming with Ben Yehuda Press on December 7

Service Section: Prayers for Healing & Peace, Shehechiyanu, Psalms, Poetry & Songs, Chanukah