Brought low, you will speak from the dust of the earth. Your voice will be heard speaking from the ground, and like the voice of a ghost, you will whisper out of the dust.
Instead, I will put that bowl in the hands of your tormentors who said to you, ‘Lie down so we can walk all over you!’ For your back became like the ground they trample on, like a street for them to walk on.”
Now, suppose someone says, “Consult mediums and spiritists who moan and mutter their incantations in their ritual pits; after all, isn’t it right for people to seek oracles from their gods by asking the dead about the destiny of the living?”
Her filth stains her skirts— she never pictured this outcome. Therefore, her fall is terrible with no one to comfort her. Jerusalem groans, “Yahweh, look how miserable I am; all the while my enemy gloats!”