Thursday, August 30, 2007

Friday Night

author unknown

It was after the meal on Friday night
The house was filled with shabbos light
At the candles stare a boy of three
He watches the lichtelach lovingly

Suddenly a cry was heard
The candles tipped, his hand was burned
It left on him a scar so deep
A memory he knew he'd always keep

At five years old he was taken away
From the derech of torah he did stray
Taken to the army as captive
As a Jew he could not live

His parents davened for him each night
That the KGB he'd be able to fight
Their Mesiras Nefesh was burning strong
How long will it last hashem how long

His father emunah would never dim
He continued teaching his Talmidim
Spreading the warmth of yiddishkeit
Till the ominous sound of a knock one night

To Siberia he was forced to go
But still in the icy wind and snow
He continued his work that was forbidden
In a small cold shack that was much hidden

He gathered men they sat and learned
In each flame of bitochon burned
Once Friday night, there deep in thought
A soldier barged in, the Chassid was caught

In a rage the soldier lifts his arm
He's stopped by the Chassid's cry of alarm
The Chassid sees the scar within
Memories flash before him

He starts to hope, oh, could it be
My only son returning to me
Oy vay hashem what have they done
Shoimele! You are my son.

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