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Writer's pictureShirlin

The Repentant


i am many things

the worst of which

wretched.

i am Hosea's harlot,

my midst holds a spirit—treacherous and merciless,

perishing from little knowledge. drunk i am, on wine and new wine for my divided heart, straying from my first. and i'm too contentious stumbling in the day.


i've been on mountaintops, burning incense on hills, under oaks, poplars, and terebinths believing their shade is good. i'm an adulterous bride, decked myself with earrings and jewelry to chase after lovers on hire. how they've eaten me up on threshing floors! and they all are like the clouds of the morn, like dew passing away, like chaff blown off, like smoke from a chimney.


i've sown the wind,

and reaped whirlwind.

my stalk has no bud; no meal is produced.

and if it should, locusts swallow it up.

i am Israel among Gentiles, a vessel in which is no pleasure.

in anger was i given a king and in wrath, he was taken away.

i hold sorrows of a woman in childbirth, i’ve been an unwise daughter,

plowing wickedness and reaping iniquity. i’ve known Truth but eaten the fruit of lies, to trust my way, in the multitude of mighty men.


i’ve been bent on backsliding and

though i call to the Most High,

i haven’t exalted Him. yet,

the fierceness of His anger;

hasn’t destroyed me.

He is God and not man, The Holy One in my midst;

has not come with terror. still, i long to walk after the LORD.

He roared like a lion and i came trembling from the west; like a bird from Egypt, like a dove from the land of Assyria to dwell.


by His help i returned to

observe mercy and justice,

and wait on Him continually. now

i clearly see how Gilead‘s idols

are purely futile.


Your’s truly,

Shirlin


Reference: The book of Hosea

15-16/4/2020

1:57 am-21:52 (16/3/2020)

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