From Herod’s stronghold heights,
a Remnant watched,
as Silva’s legion circled them in vain.
Across the changing hues of water far below,
they looked with memory at Moab’s hills,
secure as even Moses could not be,
for they were here in Judah’s field.
But fire and rock laid waste in Caesar’s name,
and Roman vindication seemed to soar,
until the silence met them here on high.
For Jacob and Rebecca were not there,
but in the wind that eddied past the cliffs,
and claimed asylum still.
