Har Sinai heard each word He said,
Atop her granite shoulders,
“A mountain, too, is a feeling thing,
I’m not just rocks and boulders.”
“I skipped with joy when they were freed,
But won’t feel their tilled embrace,
HaAretz will for six years straight.”
A tear ran down her face.
“From my shrouded peaks they heard the call,
So what am I? Chopped Liver?
My stony arms felt no caress.”
She reflected with a quiver.