"...v'radaf otam kol aleh nidaf — and the sound of a rustling leaf will pursue them."
That little aleh nidaf is after me at every moment.
My ears instinctively remain "on call," and every noise automatically analyzed.
And yes, even the rustling of leaves outside the window compels me to sit up "just to make sure" it's only rustling leaves and not the sound of a roaring crowd approaching.
Sometimes the heightened sense of sound catches something correctly, like the deep resonating boom of a rocket slamming into the ground miles away or the alert of a possible terrorist incursion (fortunately null as soon as it started and just one villain, not a gang) or the sound of a crowd of young Muslim men shouting "Allahu akhbar!" at a Jewish neighborhood (I heard the roaring sound, but not the exact words; happily, the Jews retaliated the next day by loudly playing charedi pop songs with pro-Am Yisrael Torah lyrics toward the Muslim area).
But most of the time, the suspicious noises end up being the neighbors kids letting the door slam behind them, or neighbors putting the sukkah boards into their storage shed...
...and leaves rustling in the beautiful autumn breeze.
That's why I love this following poem from an anonymous mother in Eretz Yisrael.
It wittily and vividly describes the very normal feelings of fear, heightened awareness, and upended lives while inculcating emunah and bitachon just when we need it most.
In addition to everyone being home with changing schedules (and sometimes everyone being home AND crammed in the safe room; ours is 3.10 meters x 3.30 meters – around 10 ft. x 10 ft. and holds a trundle bed, desk, and closet), the buses run less frequently due to relying on Jewish drivers only.
Initially, some bus lines didn't run at all. (The poem refers to this, and for people who don't live here, that's what it means.)
Hope you'll find this poem as validating, reassuring, and invigorating as I did:
If you live in this country, you're blessed and you're proud
But these noises keep sounding and they're kinda loud.
I hear in some places they're hearing loud "whistles"
And then Iron Dome goes exploding some missiles.
Maybe I'll get up and have me a look? Ah --
It's just downstairs neighbors dismantling their succah.
Maybe I'll go and I'll check once again?
I'd rather be sleeping cause it's 3 AM.
How can we deal with these noises and dread
That upset your balance and mess with your head?
I'll tell you a secret for dealing with them --
They've got nothing on us — it's only Hashem.
You know how you just made your bus (when they run)?
You know how there's beauty and music and fun?
You know how you woke up today and could hear?
You know how you've got people who you love dear?
The source of all that and of booms is the same
It's the One who's so holy, we don't say His Name
He chose us for His nation, and we chose Him back
That bond is rock-solid and never can crack.
Hashem is behind all this; all's from above
It's not always pleasant, but always with love
The bully at school threw a punch; thought he'd won
'Til he learned he had messed with the principal's son.
A boom is a sign that He's fighting them for us
And to live our lives by the words in Sefer Torahs
For them it's a waste of a gift from Iran
But He's letting us know we're the stars of His Plan.
As we're living on chocolate and running on fumes
As many are back and forth to their safe rooms
They'd have us succumb to the dooms and the glooms
But their way of life (quite mistaken) assumes
That we're vulnerable to the darkness that looms.
We'll keep on with our jobs and our dishes and brooms
Our girls with their dolls and our boys with their vrooms
We'll continue Tehillim and shiurs on zooms
We'll bar mitzvah our boys and we'll aufruf our grooms
As emunah blossoms and bitachon blooms
As the strength of our Nation just grows and mushrooms —
Hashem's power and love can be heard in the booms.