The Tenth of Tevet

The One who weighs the actions of people, strengthened all my attackers, for my days had been filled with malignant deeds, and in the shamefulness of my youth I forgot the good granted me, and the One who gives me my bread and water, my flax and my wool. My attackers opened wide their mouths and swallowed up my legacy. They overcame me utterly, drank my blood and gulped it down. Strangers became my enemies, they injured my brothers - strangers who called out, “Destroy, destroy!” Descendants of Seir the Horite. They said, “Come, let us finish them off, and put an end to their memory.” Jealous, vengeful God, grant retribution; let them load the burden of their own ruin. Pay them back for their actions and have their hopes disgrace them, like the baker who dreamt his dream of three baskets of white bread. My wound was not softened, my bruise enough to kill me, and my eyes have grown dim with watching for my bright-faced Love. Is His anger even now not forever forgotten? Why has He done this; why this burning rage? This God of mine is compassionate; He shall not forever reject. The days of my grief have grown long and still my heart sighs. Return, God, to my tent; do not abandon Your place. Close the days of my grief. Bring my recompense. Lorp who is the portion allotted me, come to me quickly, help me, and loosen my sackcloth, wrap me around in joy, and dazzle my darkness with Your light — light up the twilight I once longed for, for it is You who are my lamp.