On Chodesh Cheshvan, the month called “bitter”, my soul harkened to the voice of the Lord. In judgement, I fell to His feet. In hardship, I sought his face. He sought my heart with fire. I tasted thunder and rain sipped through my skin. It was fear or desperation. Or it was both. I spoke the words, “in wrath, remember mercy”. I deserved to perish like the rest of the world. How does His prophet shut His voice? How does His beloved cover the things unveiled? Is it that He revealed the things unknown? Is it meant to fall to the ground?   This heart is soiled, O God. You were her gardener and now she is barren.   Why stay in the valley than see the radiance of the sun?   How much longing before she withdraws from drudgery. The Lord is never mistaken. His Words stands true and is everlasting.   He releases His command and it goes forth to completion. “I will not fail”, the Lord says. “Have I not loved you and been faithful to you?   Will not my arms stretch out to you?   Or do I change m