A voice was heard in Ramah, Lamentation and bitter weeping, Rachel weeping for her children, Refusing to be comforted for her children, because they are no more.

Jeremiah 31:15

Weeping, weeping Rachael is weeping…

The wind whistled a mournful cry
as babes were ripped from mother’s arms.
Down depressing, dark alleyways they hid;
almost suffocating weeping children.
Babes who had just learned to walk,
innocent boys with dark brown eyes.

The fig and palm trees were silent
that chilled night as the ground rumbled.
Down small simple villages dimly lit and
quickly behind filthy corners they came.
Ruthless, raging, rough men ten times
in size; no sense of pity for the pitiless.

The heavens grew angry at what took place on dirty bug infested floors where
blood flowed down mother’s broken
fingers; across bosoms rising and falling.
How empty were numb hands and deaden homes; grief stained hearts forever broken.

In modern times, thousands of years later,
unborn children wait in sacred wombs trembling for their very first breath taken away. Parts of what could have been now just discarded as unwanted trash and waste; justified? Little has altered, through sands of time.

Weeping, weeping Rachel is weeping.

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