I watch my mother
Light the Shabbat candles,
Moving her arms at her side
Like she’s gathering all of her good deeds.
She covers her eyes with two straight hands
And they look like the Tablets of Moses
Resting on her face.
When she whispers the words, the letters
Swirl out of her mouth.
And where do they go?
They go up, up up
And then go down, down
And settle in my cells.
She looks at me
And I feel as though my mother
And father are hugging me
At the same exact time.
And then her hands flutter to her sides
Like the sun going down.
Elana Batya Feuerman is 10 years old and in the fourth grade at Yeshiva Beis Hillel, in Passaic, New Jersey. She loves to draw and make up stories, and has a flair for the dramatic.
The words of this author reflect his/her own opinions and do not necessarily represent the official position of the Orthodox Union.