Psalm 137 — The Rivers of Babylon

An English Sonnet

--

A silhouette of someone with a backpack walking through an unclear grey emptiness with the sun shining down.
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

I hang my harp upon the willow tree
And weep at gentle memories of peace,
Of times of joy when I was glad and free.
Our enemies will never ease or cease
For they believe that You are on their side,
And they are saving me from who I am.
How can I sing when my self is denied?
How can I dance when who I am they damn?
O Love, let me remember You my Home
When I am lost beside the…

--

--