By the rivers of Babylon there we sat weeping when we remembered Zion. On the poplars in its midst we hung up our harps.
For there our captors asked us for the words of a song;
Our tormentors, for joy:
“Sing for us a song of Zion!”
But how could we sing a song of the LORD in a foreign land?
If I forget you, Jerusalem, may my right hand forget.
May my tongue stick to my palate if I do not remember you, If I do not exalt Jerusalem beyond all my delights (PS 137:1-6).
This river is the last view of home for those making the trip from Guatemala to Lake Worth. Look back over the shoulder is the prayer of the diaspora.
Usumacinta River, Frontera Corozal, Mexico
Peace be with you,