Sister Job

Like a goat
watching her kid
boil in her milk,
My how Sister Job's heart
must have ripped.
Clasping her breast
and beating her head
when she discovered
her children were dead.
Then searching for shelter-
some place to hide to mourn-
somewhere to cry
And finding only relics
of what her children had left
from the time they roamed 
free - alive - in good health.
Turning to her lord
needing his hand.
Finding him a boil 
squatting in ashy sand.
Turning to her priest
needing a prayer.
Only to watch him
scrape off his skin
with shattered earthenware.
Thinking it was God
who murdered her babes.
Yet Job remained faithful.
"My Man is Crazed!"

Angry enough to become Satan's tool.
"Curse God and die!"
There was nothing else to lose-
having no words to say 
after being reproved.
She must have walked with
head low, for her man's 
breath she could stand no more.
But, what did she have left 
to lose since they
were her children too.

It had been strife in his flesh
oh poor man Job
when his bitter wife
could stand him no more.
Being once alone under
hardened stares.
Knowing she'd said curse God
and be dead.
But his love was long-suffering
and could never fail.
A blameless and upright 
servant of God.
His love was long-suffering
and could never die.
So when the time came
on behalf of his wife
Job prayed...

and Jah accepted and forgave...
for LOVE understood-
They were her children too.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

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A  Avatar
August 16, 2015 at 12:54 AM
Well done... SKAT
Dickman Avatar
August 12, 2015 at 4:34 PM
Nice poem and use of the name. Are you my sister?
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