silent towers
and wait
for her stones to starve.
She sits alone,
the faithful city,
the princess of provinces,
her tears
become a rivulet,
running dry.
All her walls are guarded now,
and her stones reflect
the sadness of broken promises,
of so many prophets' warnings...
Outside and within
we are a nation living under siege.
Who can we turn to, when You are away?
Bring us back to You,
and we will return.
Make new our days
as before.
This article originally appeared in SEASONS OF THE MOON for Tevet 5756.
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