The Prophet's Lament

Prophet, why do you sit on the watchtower?

Prophet, what do you see?

Child, cover your eyes.

As you walk down the street, shut your ears.

If you look, you will see men kissing the wives of their neighbors.

If you listen, you will hear the weeping of the widow cast from her home.

If you look, you will see the judge extorting money from the foreigner.

If you listen, you will hear the screams of the children thrown into Molech's lap.

Even you, little one, carry bread for the idols.

You take flour for your mother to make her Asherah cakes.

Is this why you weep, O prophet?

Is this why you cry perched on your tower like a bird?

My heart is shattered, Child, like a dropped cooking pot.

Anger consumes me like the flames of a dry forest burning.

For our courts oppose the righteous,
and justice is nowhere to be found.
Truth stumbles in the streets,
and honesty has been outlawed.

Yes, truth is gone,
and anyone who renounces evil is attacked.

Hurry home, Child, for the night is coming soon.

And you, Prophet?

Will you go home to your fire?

No, Child, I will sit here.

I will sit here underneath the bright stars of heaven.

I will sit under the bright stars of heaven and wait.