The Resonant Sanctuary Poem by Elliott Rosenberg

An amber evening settles on the wooden bench,
where four-handed harmony labors in quiet grace—
words forged in a unseen foundry of memory,
falling like cool rain across the starched linen of their caps.
Notice how the lateral light glances through the glass,
not with harsh judgment, but with a clement sobriquet of peace,
touching the red wool skirts turned deep as dried earth,
and the open pages of an ancient, steady psalm.
Above them, carved in oak, the scripture rests—
a promise of shelter for the fatherless and the bound—
yet below, young fingers must press down hard
to draw the resonant cadence from the keys.
They do not sing for elegy or sorrow,
but to lift the heavy rafters of the hall,
a choir of tender voices holding fast
against the quiet erosion of the world.