Memorial: a poem for Yizkor

Lit in a moment
of in-betweens,
neither day nor night,
neither dark nor light,
this flame does not dance.

It casts no shadow
and holds no blessing,
only remembrance.
It rests upon the altar
of my kitchen counter,
scarred from years of bounty
and gentle benediction.
My empty cup
overflows with longing.

This flame burns without heat,
but there is great blessing
and grace in Your name.