The miracle is not, of course,
in the efficacy of the oil,
but is the fire burning in the Temple,
the fire burning eight days for the people.

War, like entropy,
is unremarkable,
one damn thing happening over another.
But in that day in Kislev,
a few people walked into the Temple,
removed the bloody cloths, and the faces of stone,
wet some cleaning rags to the task,and, using elbows and knees, with eyes open,
brought a memory of peaceback to the old place.

They lit the candles, one by one.
The flame is burning still.