A word shaped like an open hand,
offered without armor,
without demand.

It enters the room before footsteps,
soft as breath,
firm as stone.

Shalom-
not the end of conflict,
but the refusal to let fear
shape the next sentence.

It lingers in doorways,
between strangers,
at gravesides,
in newborn cries.

It is not always spoken.
Sometimes it is silence,
a shared glance,
a tear not wiped away.

Shalom
is the space where violence
decides not to arrive.