I am still in the Tisha B'Av mode {as I should be}.
I just wrote my own lamentation... I hope it will be accepted.
Lamentation 1
Oh Hashem, Oh Hashem, Hear my cries.
You have saved me from the pit, your love I desire.
I have cleaved to your Holiness and found a path of truth.
The generations are mourning at the state of our world.
When the holy of holies burned where were our merits?
Our sins were like stains on our white garments.
Your anger flared, and again, we beseeched your mercy.
A day of mourning, we cried like in the desert.
And we saw miracles, the maan, the clouds, and the well.
But they must die in the desert, they lost their way.
The generations are sobbing for your presence has withdrawn.
They sobbed for they lacked emunah, when they should have trusted.
Your rebellious children built images and danced in sin.
Mighty tablets with the word of the L-rd, shattered in anger.
And wrath withheld for Moshes tender prayers, your mercy precedes honor.
How loud a cry, in heaven above, and on earth below? The shrieks of horror?
Words of holiness prophesied unimaginable horrors, which we can imagine now.
Those truthful words of rebuke, those prophets were full of wisdom.
Blood flowing in the streets of Jerusalem, the invader ravaged the land.
The L-rds wisdom is beyond calculation, his handiwork is this world and the next.
Even the planets and stars sing his praise in the void, The Master of the Universe at the summit.
Our fathers, Abraham, Yitzak, and Yaacov you cherished and made the covenant.
And your word is eternal, from the beginning to the end, your word is truth.
For our sins we were punished, you turned your countenance away from us.
The invaders had their way with your sanctuaries, we were plundered.
Who can imagine the fear and terror as we see mothers eating their young?
Destroyers who lay waste at noon, those daggers of death descended, making new martyrs.
We know we can be strong, we saw the sounds at the foot of the mountain, we made our vow.
The generation in the desert, and their offspring for the rest of time, we stood under the mountain.
You, My L-rd, are the Almighty. Life and death are in your hand. I am just a piece of clay.
The soul you have breathed into me desires your presence, and your comfort.
Withhold your wrath from your servant Israel, we have suffered for so long.
In your holy name we trusted, and your justice is not questioned.
The merit of the forefathers is before you, and you should judge your nation like a father.
My heart longs to sit in your house, to study the laws, and wisdom of your Torah.
May your will be that the Temple is rebuilt in our days.
Topic: My New Psalm (Read 3352 times)