Spilwords.com presents Watching Candles Burn, a poem by Mark Tulin, a former Philadelphia Family Therapist who now resides in Santa Barbara, California.
— spillwords.com/watching-candles-burn/
WATCHING CANDLES BURN
written by: Mark Tulin
I know my mother’s here
by her presence
in the white candle
that burns on the sink
in the kitchen.
I know she hovers
by the way
the red glow flickers
in the shadows.
She always loved
watching flames
of Yahrzeit candles
slowly burning wax
to the bottom of the glass.
It made her feel
not so lost
and deserted
by the family
who left her behind.
Even, now, in death,
she still needs
a white candle to burn,
to keep her spirit
from flickering out.


Nice to read your words again.
Thanks, Grumpy. I hope you’re doing well.
At the moment, splendid.. but.. you know.. waves will be waves 🙂 cheers
Same here, grumpy. I know what you mean when you speak of waves. Much peace. ☮️
what an amazingly beautiful poem………i love the thought of your mom being present with the burning flame and how you keep her memory alive. so touching….
Thanks, Wendi. It’s amazing how powerful a simple wax candle could be. 🙏🏻🙂
very true……….
I love the closing stanza.
I do too, Rosaliene. I thought it brought the moment together. 🙏🏻🙂
Such a lovely, poignant poem.
Thank you, Liz. 🙏🏻
Hauntingly beautiful poem, Mark. Your words always blow me away.
Thank you, Michelle. 🙂
Really a great poem, Mark!!
Thank you, RR.
😁✨✨
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
Thank you, RR.
😁👍
Very sweet, Mark. Have you ever noticed that most Catholic churches have a section of candles to light? At least they did back in the day. I haven’t seen them as much and after reading this poem, I wish they would.
Yes, a spiritual symbol that seems to connect people with their deities and lost loved ones.
I love this poem: it’s so withering and tender in the same burn 🙂
Thank you, John.
Lovely mental pictures flickering here 😊