Oh, oh, oh . . . How empty the city, once teeming with people. A widow, this city, once in the front rank of nations, once queen of the ball, she’s now a drudge in the kitchen. She cries herself to sleep each night, tears soaking her pillow. No one’s left among her lovers to sit and hold her hand. Her friends have all dumped her. After years of pain and hard labor, Judah has gone into exile. She camps out among the nations, never feels at home. Hunted by all, she’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Zion’s roads weep, empty of pilgrims headed to the feasts. All her city gates are deserted, her priests in despair. Her virgins are sad. How bitter her fate. Her enemies have become her masters. Her foes are living it up because GOD laid her low, punishing her repeated rebellions. Her children, prisoners of the enemy, trudge into exile. All beauty has drained from Daughter Zion’s face. Her princes are like deer famished for food, chased to exhaustion by hunters.
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