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Some (non-rhyming) poetry for Tisha B’av

Shabbat Shalom everyone.

These lines came to me while pondering Tisha B’av:

The holy city is down-trodden
Under heathen’s boots
On David’s neck now planted.

The sound – falling on Judah’s hills;
Of Rachel weeping for her children,
Where once rose the song of turtledoves.

The House for all nations’ prayer
Is made a desolate heap.
Ichabod there makes his home.

He takes for consorters
Unclean birds,
Where once was prophecy.

I would love to hear some honest thoughts / criticism about it, if you’re inclined to respond. Thank you so much for your time!

submitted by /u/Vinyameen
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Source: Reditt

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