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Behold I have not plowed nor have I planted,
I have not prayed for the rain.
And suddenly, see! My fields have grown
Sun-blessed grain instead of thistle.
Is it the aftergrowth of ancient produce,…
He read my songs of sorrow and mourning . . .
Has one Poet wreaked against his People
If I erred through licentious ways,
If I erred, vain and unfaithful?
Thus mourns my song. No word of comfort…
So condolence visits is what they’re here for,sitting around at the Holocaust Memorial, putting on a serious faceat the Wailing Wall,laughing behind heavy curtains in hotel rooms.They get themselves…