I sit here
at the waters of Babylon.
My back hunched.
My head between my knees.
The waters lap at my feet
beckoning me to join them.
To run away.
I try to cry
yet cannot.
The well of tears
behind my eyes
has dried out.
There are none left to shed.
My home
my beautiful, magnificent
home
is in shambles.
And I sit here.
Chained.
Bedraggled.
Without a voice.
From behind me
I hear footsteps.
We need some entertainment
to help us
forget
what is going on around us.
Sing for us!
Sing?
Sing what?
Sing what?
A song that you always sang.
One from your home.
But how can I sing
my song
in a strange land?
Sing, you insolent fool!
Sing!
But my voice is gone.
I don't even open
my lips
to even try to sing.
How can I sing
amongst desolation?
How can I sing my song,
our song,
for those who have taken
song away?
No, I shall not sing.
If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its strength.
