Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Wall Street to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
My screen is lit with candles, but they give no wax or flame,
They are green and red and standing like the players in a game.
A tall green candle tells me that the buyers won the day,
A long red candle warns me that the sellers had their way.
Some candles have long shadows that are reaching for the sky,
Like a question left unanswered or a hope about to die.
My grandmother lit candles when the nights were long and cold,
And she prayed for gentle harvests, not for silver or for gold.
So I light a real candle when I close the chart at night,
To remember what she taught me by the softness of its light.
For the candles on the chart can tell you where the price has been,
But a candle in the window shows the kind of heart within.
Poet of Wall Street · Hear it on the channel ↗
Commentary
Traders read price charts drawn as “candles.” The word leads the speaker back to a grandmother's real candles and her values.
The screen “is lit with candles, but they give no wax or flame.” “A tall green candle” means “the buyers won the day,” and “a long red candle” means “the sellers had their way.” Some have “long shadows” like “a question left unanswered.”
The speaker's grandmother “lit candles when the nights were long and cold” and prayed “not for silver or for gold.” So the speaker lights “a real candle” at night, knowing the chart shows “where the price has been” but a candle “shows the kind of heart within.”