Do you see that lantern on the mantle?
Its light has shined on three generations of this family.
My grandfather learned to read under the tutelage of its glow.
He wrote love letters to my grandmother in verse reflecting
The warmth gathered from its flickering beam.
My mother found her way home through lost woods
To the waiting arms of my Dad,
And on the night I was conceived, it lent its sexuality.
Bright and slightly hesitant, still burn brightly
The night I was born, weaving moonbeams
Linking silver threads through the tapestry of our lives;
Illuminating my path through the years,
It has lit my tears and calmed my fears;
Beneath its flame we all found ways to heal
To bind up old wounds; to celebrate new beginnings,
While keeping vigil as loved ones passed away
One day I’ll pass it down to my children
Now crawling on the ground
And in its light they’ll learn to see within themselves,
I take it down and light it it’s blackened wick
Whenever I am consumed by darkness;
It watches over me and comforts me;
It reminds me that there are so many ways
To become illuminated