Fist

If men are quarreling and one strikes the other with a stone or a fist, and he does not die but is confined to bed,

Yet today they will halt at Nob, shaking a fist at the mount of Daughter Zion, at the hill of Jerusalem.

You fast with contention and strife to strike viciously with your fist. You cannot fast as you do today and have your voice be heard on high.

This carefree city that dwells securely, that thinks to herself: “I am it, and there is none besides me,” what a ruin she has become, a resting place for beasts. Everyone who passes by her hisses and shakes his fist.