The pain did not go away with the dawn.
Jeremiah walked slowly, each step reminding him of the blows from the previous
day.Her back burned. Her wrists still felt the stiffness of the stocks. But nothing
hurt as much as the taunt that still hung in the air.
People were staring at him.
Some with contempt.
Others with open
mockery.
"There goes the prophet of doom," they murmured.
"Where is your God now?"
Jeremiah did not answer.
He went into his house and closed the door. He leaned his back against it and let
himself fall to the floor.The silence was heavy, oppressive.
"That's enough," he whispered.
She covered her face with her hands.
—That's enough, sir.
Tears flowed uncontrollably.
"Why did you call me?" he asked.
Why me?
He remembered his youth. The day he had said he didn't know how to speak. The
moment whenthat God touched his mouth.
"You said you'd be with me," he said, his voice breaking.
"But I'm alone."
He slammed his fist into the ground.
—Every time I speak, they laugh.
Every time I warn them, they hit me.
Your words have brought me shame, not honor.He took a deep breath, trying to calm down.
"I've decided not to speak anymore," she finally
said. "I won't mention your name."
I will not announce any further judgments.
Silence filled the room.
For a moment, he thought he had done it.
But then…
Something ignited.
It wasn't an
emotion.It wasn't
an idea.
It was a fire.
Jeremiah put his hand to his chest. The burning was real, intense, as if something
were consuming him.from the inside out.
"What is this?" he whispered,
alarmed. He tried to ignore it.
The fire intensified.
"No," he said, gritting his teeth. "I
won't talk."
The fire spread, as if it were coursing through his
bones.He stood up suddenly, panting.
"Enough!" he shouted.
But I couldn't stop him.
"Your word is in my heart," he said in despair, "like a
burning fire shut up in my bones."
He fell to his knees.
—I tried to resist her…
And I couldn't.The fire did not destroy it…
He forced him to.
She stood there,
trembling.Outside, he
heard laughter.
"Report him," they said.
—It will fall.
Jeremiah felt afraid.
—All those who were my friends —he thought—
Now they await my
downfall.He got up
slowly.
—But the Lord is with me —he said softly— like a
mighty giant.
That truth sustained him.
"My pursuers will stumble," he continued.
"They will not prevail."
For a moment, faith was rekindled.
"Sing to the Lord," he said.
"Praise the Lord,
because he has delivered
the poor.But the light
didn't last long.
The darkness returned… deeper.
Jeremiah sat down, exhausted.
"Damn the day I was born," he
whispered. The words came out
unfiltered.
—Cursed be the man who gave my father the news:"A son has been born to you."
She covered her face."Why did I come out of the womb?" he asked.
To see work and pain?
To end my days in shame? The
conflict tore him apart.
Faith and despair. Trust and
weariness. Obedience and
the desire to flee.
Everything coexisted in his
chest.He didn't sleep that
night.
He stared at the ceiling, listening to his own breathing.
"If I didn't talk," he
thought, "my life would
be easier."
But I knew it wouldn't be a life.
Because silence would consume him more than
blows.At dawn, he got up.
She washed the dried blood from her back. She wrapped
herself in her cloak.He looked at his reflection in the
water.
The face was the same…
But their eyes had changed.
There was something
irreversible about them.
"I am not free to remain silent," he
thought. "But neither am I
abandoned."
He left the house.
The sun was beginning to rise over Jerusalem.
The city continued with its normal rhythm, oblivious to the prophet's internal conflict.Jeremiah took a deep breath."I will not speak because I want to," he
said. "I will speak because I must."
He walked towards the square.
Some saw it and were surprised.
"You again?" Jeremiah
stopped.
He felt the fire…
not as punishment,
but as an impulse.
—Yes —he replied—
. Again.
Because when God puts his word in a man, they
can break him.
They can humiliate him,
They can lock him up…
But they cannot put out the
fire.And Jeremiah knew it.
That fire had marked him forever.