In the Pyre of War

Jacob Hershman

In the fire, explosions, the pyre of war. 
Between days that are stormy with blood,
I am burning my little lamp, casting the light,
and I search, and I search for someone.

The blaze darkens the glow of my little lamp’s flame,
it is so bright that I cannot see; 
will I realize, gaze forth, will I know, ascertain 
when he finally stands before me?

Give a sign, Blessed God, on his forehead a sign,
for in fire, in explosions and blood,
I will see the pure spark, see the infinite spark, 
and find what I have searched for: someone.