Staircase

the dear little god
is not picky

opens all the doors
collects
all the tears
all the sighs
all the prayers

in this photo
in the service staircase
of the mall
kanyon mul hayam
on the shore of the red sea
in eilat
barukh is praying
between the ground floor
and the basement

he worked here last night

in the luxury liquor store

the service staircase
is used by
only those who work in the mall

not for intended use

not for the transportation
of cleaning materials
or trash
or goods
up and down

that’s why they have
the service elevator
right next to the service staircase
much cleaner
much more comfortable

no

the grubby
dodgy
smelly
service staircase
serves the spiritual needs
of the employees

this is where
the russian security guard
gets some rest
and pushes the buttons
of his phone
for a little while
in russian

this is where
the ethiopean cleaning lady
cries a little
between cleaning
a pissoir full of vomit
and a toilet full of shit

this is where modi
asks his god
to be able to spend more time
with his daughters

and this is where barukh prays
to the dear little god
who got named
by fred and lelush
almost ten years ago
and who is on paper
the same god
as modi’s god
but for barukh
is still
different
a less stern
less masculine
more homey
god

if in the clean
orderly
and elegant store
barukh suddenly feels
lost
and desperate
this is where
he comes

to the sanctuary
of the stinking
grimy
service staircase
to rest

to pull himself together

here he smooths out
the wrinkles of his soul

opens his book of prayers
says the familiar words
those words
that he repeated many times
in his countless previous homes
while the children were playing
and judit was reading
or cooking dinner

then he lays his head
to the lap of
the dear little god
who sitting on
his tremendous
infinitely tremendous
hassock
listens to barukh’s prayer

and barukh calms down

for a moment

feels at home

here

in the stinky
grimy
staircase

here

in the staircase
sacred by
sighs
tears
and prayers

About the Author
Barukh is a Hungarian-Israeli poet. He and his family have started a new life in the desert. He writes therapeutic free poems about soul, home and world peace. Barukh is me.
Related Topics
Related Posts
Comments