Book of Job (a doubting poem)

Job waits for me

Blocking the way to the book of Psalms

Job’s children die

I don’t care about the sheep

Oxen and Camels?

Even the servants are little more than faces in the crowd

His children die

They had a party

They were all in one house

How nice that all the kids get along

There’s no feuding

No bickering

They chose to get together

Must be a blessing to Job

His children love one another

Until they die

Job still trusts God

His body fails

Pain and torment

His children are dead

His wife loses patience

Curse God and die! She tells him

The failings of a soul mate

His children are dead

His best friends come

With the haughtiest of best intentions

They instruct

They correct

They irritate

His children are dead

God speaks

He is beyond judgement

His ways too high to understand

He made a bet with Satan

Job’s children are dead

Job is restored

His friends eat crow

He’s got Oxen, sheep

Camels, servants

New children are born

Just as many as before

His new daughters are pretty

Their names are even mentioned in the bible

These children give Job


Great grandchildren

Great great grandchildren


Glad that’s over

Long happy days for Job

His children are dead

For a hundred and forty years

Job knows

His children are dead

His servants report another good year with the donkeys

His children are dead

Hey Job

We snipped another hundred oxen


His children are dead

His friends say

You were right all along

Don’t we look silly?

His children are dead

God won his bet with Satan

Las Vegas has God as a 12-1 favorite for the

Apocalyptic rematch

Job’s children are dead

Job is now dead as well

Maybe four thousand years past

I read the book of his testing

Forty-two chapters

Most of it dedicated to

Bad advice

And I never get past chapter one

Verse nineteen

A wind blows

A great spirit

A house falls

Job’s children are dead