Troubles of Job

TROUBLES OF JOB If Job stopped by and viewed my pain He’d raise both hands and claim his cares were few A hungry hawk strips all my veins and claws my heart as I am grieving you If God would put me in his place For just a simple hour Could I judge when face to face Which soul will yield as grief devours I would flip a pagan coin Into a pagan sky Or simply shrug a Titan shoulder Batting not an eye. This world declared the death of right And glibly kills its own Shed its conscience and remorse--- My God would spurn this throne.