Every seventh year you shall practice remission of debts. 
                                    (Deuteronomy 15:1)

How simple it ought to be, to practice compassion 
on someone gone, even love him, long as he’s not 
right there in front of me, for I turned to address him, 
as I do, and saw that no one’s lived in that spot 
for quite some time. O turner-away of prayer—
not much of a God, but he was never meant to be. 
For the seventh time I light him a candle; an entire 
evening and morning it burns; not a light to see 
by, more a reminder of light, a remainder, in a glass 
with a prayer on the label and a bar code from the store. 
How can he go on? He can’t. Then let him pass away; 
he gave what light he could. What more 
will I claim, what debt of grace he doesn’t owe? 
If I forgive him, he is free to go.