Job's Grief Poem by Corinne Watt

From the deepest depths of a despairing heart,
Grief formed into words and he made a start,
To express his frustration at events beyond control,
The cruel hand of darkness had so blighted his soul.

'Let the day of my birth be cursed' he said,
'And the night of conception' - he wished himself dead.
'Let it not be counted as a day in each year',
'For it is bleak and joyless, so may it just disappear',
'Let the stars fall from the sky for they bring me no light',
'Curse the opened womb that sent me into this plight',
'Why was I not just neglected to die? '
'I'd now be at peace' his heart did sigh,
'Oh to never have gasped that first breath of air',
'Sweet death - the rich and the poor are both free there',
'This hopeless man is to God no use',
'Hear my sorrow pour out Lord and set me loose! '

Weep alongside him, endure, for in Chapter 42,
His depression is lifted and God brings him through.
We cannot see to the end of our life's book,
Yet if the Almighty allowed us a look,
Past our oppressions for those faithful and true,
The most high and Powerful will bring us through too.