Job asks the god Why a bet

Job asks the god Why a bet

why toy with lives in such ways?



The wind can hardly hold back

its gusts of mighty laughter.



The wind then composes breath,

says to the the upright small one,



You are a bet yourself, Job,

do not forget that, wise man.



You do not require us two,

the adversary and me,



to wage your life for nothing;

because you know it was that,



nothing, that I needed not

bet away your family,



it was unnecessary,

I apologize, my son.



Job is startled by all this,

a god apologizing!



He notices the wind puffs

in little cool breaths of air



Then he grows warm and breathless

because the god is no longer there.



I had so much more to say,

not only about myself.



I wanted to know the way

we are bets, what this entails.



I survived when the barn’s rails

came from their posts and impaled,



Job sighs, holding back his cries,

my ten beautiful children.



What about them, their voices

which were covered in rubble



deserved not to be troubled,

a word, a lament, a joy?



Must I be the voice for them,

a voice for all dead children?



Must I tell of the horror

to the replacement children



that some things are never heard

because they are never asked,



they are never given voice.

I think they should know all this.



Tell me, god, you great guster,

am I right to speak this way?



The wind is hushed, deadly hushed.

Job, despondent, walks away.