Mizmor L'David Anthology 

 

Each year the Rabbi asks me to photograph

Chanukah in the City. Each year

Security tells me to delete the photos

they appear in. This year I get a lanyard saying:

‘Official Photographer’ from the Rabbi’s wife.

I capture falafel vans, klezmer bands, doughnuts

and latkes stands. Acrobats sail on stilts, trail

bubbles through sky. The giant menorah watches

men laying tefillin as children spin dreidels.

Dignitaries make apologies for ministers

who couldn’t be there. The Rabbi is carried skywards

in a cherry picker—I twist my lens to capture him

lighting the menorah, six-feet high. Once

there were fireworks. Now our country

is on fire, burning far longer than eight days

and eight nights. Our Prime Minister doesn’t believe

in climate change. He wants to silence

protestors. Our country is on fire.

And as the festival of lights begins— I let

my menorah radiate survival and hope, even

if I have to blow its candles out

before I go to bed.