Domanassa: Grief in the mind
Painful feeling that lands in the mind while the body stays untouched. The cry arrives doubled, "my anguish, my anguish," the way a person repeats a word because saying it once failed to empty it. No sword has come near him, the army is still beyond the hills, and the whole wound is already there in full.
Karuṇā: Compassion
The heart quivering at another's pain. "My heart trembles within me" is that quivering exactly; the trembling belongs to the city and simply reaches his chest first. A heavy truck rolls past outside and the windows rattle in their frames, though nothing has laid a hand on them.
Saṃvega: Urgent shock
The jolt that comes when danger is seen plainly and turns a person around. The trumpet sounds inward, "O my soul," ahead of any watchman on the wall lifting a horn to his lips. A smoke alarm at night puts a household on its feet without argument, and this blast does the same work, leaving no room to sleep on in the old life.
Vipāka: The ripening of deeds
The result a deed yields when its season comes. The army moving down from the north is not a stranger arriving; it is what the city's own years of conduct grew into, as was said in the breath just before this cry. Fruit falls when it falls, and no one talks it back up onto the branch.
Appamāda: Wakeful care
Staying alert to what you are doing while there is still time to do something else. "I can't hold my peace" is that alertness under pressure: the alarm has been heard, so speech has to follow, whether or not anyone in Jerusalem wants to hear it. Keeping quiet now would be like watching a child step off the curb into traffic and saying nothing.