I reached out day after day

to a people who turned their backs on me,

People who make wrong turns,

who insist on doing things their own way.

They get on my nerves,

are rude to my face day after day,

Make up their own kitchen religion,

a potluck religious stew.

They spend the night in tombs

to get messages from the dead,

Eat forbidden foods

and drink a witch’s brew of potions and charms.

They say, ‘Keep your distance.

Don’t touch me. I’m holier than thou.’

These people gag me.

I can’t stand their stench.

Look at this! Their sins are all written out—

I have the list before me.

I’m not putting up with this any longer.

I’ll pay them the wages

They have coming for their sins.

And for the sins of their parents lumped in,

a bonus.” God says so.

“Because they’ve practiced their blasphemous worship,

mocking me at their hillside shrines,

I’ll let loose the consequences

and pay them in full for their actions.”