8-17olace After Job

Solace after Job

 

My family gunned down—maniacal spree;

My house blazes to ash before my eyes;

Psoriasis erupts repulsively.

 

Why was I born? I am a refugee.

This is my life—but I hear no reply.

Am I condemned by the Almighty?

 

My cry is bitter. Heaven shuns my plea.

My spirit hemorrhages groans and sighs.

Have I gone wrong and acted faithlessly?

 

My friends tell me, “You blame the Almighty

Who corrects those He loves, to purify

And turn their lives to Him wholeheartedly.”

 

He took my home, my health, my family?

No—even those faithful suffer and die,

Victims of hate, cruel storms, malady.

 

.           .

 

I can’t bind the chains of the Pleiades

Or justify why life does crucify.

Millions and millions cry with heartbreaking pleas.

I cling to Almighty’s love on Calvary.

 

 

 

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