So this is the song that I wrote in Miriam's voice.
Imagining her time in this week away from the camp.
Well my mother named me bitter, although as a child I was so kind.
Hiding myself in the reeds to watch over my brother.
But still my name was bitter, bitter the days of the sea.
Bitter the cries of the horses drowning behind us.
If anybody asked me I might not have chosen to go.
But everyone knows sometimes you don't have a choice.
So when he said, "you're banished, seven days in the desert alone," I just started walking,
I knew there was nothing to say.
The scorpions and the spiders crawled up to me and stopped in my shade.
Together in silence we watched as the sun crossed the sky.
And if your father spit in your face, wouldn't you want to leave that place?
And if your skin should turn to snow, wouldn't you have to go?
And if your G-d should turn from you, wouldn't you turn too?
Still I don't regret a minute, and I don't regret an hour of the week that I lived all
alone at the top of the mountain.
Though no voice came down from heaven, and I never saw words written in fire, I did see
the birds of prey pick all the carcasses clean.
If anybody had asked me I might not have chosen to go.
But everyone knows sometimes you don't have a choice.
And if your father spit in your face, wouldn't you want to leave that place?
And if your skin should turn to snow, wouldn't you have to go?
And if your G-d should turn from you, wouldn't you turn too?