The building’s shelter forgot what people look like.
For years now, it’s stored only things — not lives.
A box missing one of its three legs,
And orphaned, dusty bicycle pegs.
I’d forgotten it’s like a dark cave
Though the neighbor once asked,
“Who pays for the light we save?”
I met some neighbors down below,
But in the noisy hum of teenage woe,
And lighting dim as a shadow’s sigh,
The truth pressed heavy —
I barely recognized a soul passing by.
And…
I’ve lived there for years.
We started to chat,
A little gossip, a little prayer for this and that.
And I discovered priceless hearts —
Each one, a soul where fire sparks.
One taught me how to breathe
When panic attacks and will not leave.
And a mother sang sweet lullabies
To calm kids with terror in their eyes.
There was one I didn’t quite know —
Perhaps a new neighbor, twisting her hands in silent woe.
The young bride who married just last year
Was the last to appear.
A warm-hearted woman gave her hand
To her sixth child, then made a plan
To invite us all to Friday stew —
“Cholent for everyone — even you.”
Even the elder, usually shy,
Shared recipes — for toddlers, no need to fry.
And suddenly, it felt so kind —
One mentioned the hostages, eyes red, voices entwined.
Then offered pastries to ease our strain,
“A little sugar helps the pain.”
One mother hugged her boy so tight
As he trembled from missile fright.
He wept, afraid of the falling skies.
She whispered Psalms through lullabies.
A grandmother danced with her young kin,
Just a giggle, a twirl, and a spin.
A woman so sweet, with a radiant face,
Spoke words of Torah, full of grace,
Then confessed — her house a mess,
No time to clean up the preschool stress.
One, in a quiet, trembling voice,
Told us all of a bitter choice —
A husband summoned to distant scenes,
Of shattered glass and broken dreams.
To sites of sirens, wounds, and strife —
She carries home his other life.
And time just passed, as it does when hearts thaw.
Truthfully?
I didn’t want to leave at all.
Though the danger was through,
There was no bitter aftertaste I knew.
I wasn’t rushing up the stair —
I’d found so many treasures there.
And I thought to myself with a silent grin,
“These neighbors — I’d gladly let in.”
So I opened my heart and made it clear:
A message to all I hold dear —
Even when our enemy rains down fear,
We’ve still got the Psalms we hold near.
He counts on us breaking apart in fright.
But God… He helps us unite.