Nabal, why torture me so?
How can I be of virtue like Abigail
when bitterly, too long silently,
now openly I wail? Am I less now
than what I was for the sins of my heart?
In your eyes found guilty though innocent!
What is my defense? On trial year after year.
Like the mountain beaten down to the plains
by the angry wind. How can I plea bargain
when all have sinned? I asked your forgiveness
when there was no guilt in my heart.
None was given. Then circumstances of the mind
tore us apart. Who would choose Nabal
but Abigail? Abigail, I am not but I have returned
only to be scorned. I asked your forgiveness
for the guilt in my heart. None was given.
Can I expect any different? Year after year
will the trial continue? What is my defense?
Beaten down the sand storms turn the plain
to desert wasteland, driven by the angry wind.
Bitterly, too long silently, now openly I wail.
How can I be of virtue like Abigail?
Nabal, Why do you torture me so?