Parsha Vayakhel: Souls of Your Shoes

And he gathered friends, my friend, the priest
Go help the shelter! (not the hospital at least)

An old municipal building, donated shoes
On the floor, sifting and sorting through

Bags and baskets, ripped open, torn
Some are tattered, beaten, worn

A few are brand new, solid, sound
Tags still attached; haven’t touched the ground

The chasm in sizes is striking, stark
Most of them tiny, some are quite large

Mostly size nine, just like mine; They go on the top shelf
Too high for me to reach without help, but I have help

No dress shoes, no heels, no sandals
Not good for travel or work, be practical

Toss the boots and hi-top shoes
They won’t fit the tracker, they’re of no use

There are shoes for babies, they all look new
So many of the babies here look new, too

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