JOB CHAPTER 25 - 32

JOB 25

1 Then answered Bildad the Shuhite,
And said 2 Power and fear with the wight,
He makes peace in high places’ site.
3 Is there a limit to his hosts?
Is there any end to his boasts?
4 How then can man be justified
With El? Or pure who’s come to bide
Through a woman and not to hide?
5 Look even at the moon and see
That it shines not in purity,
And the stars are soiled in His sight.
6 How much less man, who’se just a worm?
And the son of man, come to squirm?

Bildad answers Job with the argument
Noted by Greeks later, ideal bent
Is far too pure for matter in this world:
It is a thing of pure spirit unfurled.
Job’s guilty of having a body made
In womb of woman, and the act displayed
Of his obeying or his not means naught.
Do what he may, be he taught or untaught.
I grasp the idea that matter is rot,
I merely doubt the truth of what he sought.
The stars are pure unless they fail to do
According to commands given by You.
And Job is innocent if he acts by
The Decalogue no matter in what sty.

JOB 26

1 But Job replied to him and said,
2 How have you helped the weak, unfed,
And saved the arm without strength led?
3 How have you counselled ignorant,
And clarified things with your cant?
4 To whom have you uttered your words?
And whose spirit came from your turds?
5 The dead shiver beneath the deep
And all the things that in it creep.
6 Naked is sheol before Him,
Nothing makes hell in His eyes dim.
7 He stretches out the north on naught,
And hangs the earth on nothing wrought.
8 He binds up waters in thick clouds,
That burst not under their weight’s crowds.
9 He holds back the face of his throne,
And spreads his cloud upon its stone.
10 He’s set around the water bounds,
Until day and night end their rounds.
11 The pillars of the heavens quake
Astonished for His menace’ sake.
12 He divides the sea with His power,
And by His knowledge makes to cower
The proud. 13 By His breath He has set
The gems of heaven, His hand has met
To form the crooked serpent yet.
14 See, these are just parts of His ways:
How little is known to His praise!
His power’s thunder, who can raise?

Job answers Bildad with two arguments:
The first is that his high-minded good sense
In raising You above all matter’s glow
Obstructs the sympathetic hand to show
Good will and help to those who’re poor and slow.
The second is that such cosmology
Removes Creator from created’s spree,
And thus makes You a pallid mimicry
Of Job’s false comforters beside their tents.
Beloved, I too see how Your breath around
The hill, flying upon the lake and ground
Fill ear and heart with freezing, dismal sound.
I too see the cold stars stare on the bound
Of the shy viper sliding from the mound.

JOB 27

1 Moreover Job kept up his speech,
And said 2 As God lives, who’d impeach
My justice, and Shaddai hurts me,
3 While all the while my breath’s in me,
And Allah’s breath’s in my nose free,
4 My lips shall not speak wickedness,
Nor shall my tongue deceit confess.
5 Let me never admit you’re right,
Till death I’ll not take from my sight
Integrity. 6 My righteousness
I hold fast, and not acquiesce,
My heart shall not reproach me while
I live and exist without guile.

Job now accuses Bildad of the sin
Of false theology not like to win.
Till now he’s ranted only that the act
Of disobedience is sin in fact,
But now he speaks of sin in awful word
And of the heart by sinful thoughts once stirred.
To hold belief about You that’s contrary
To Your nature and character, though chary,
In Job’s view’s also wickedness and not
Just the injustice such conceptions plot.
Beloved, let my tongue and my mind not make
Idols of stone and brick, nor take in stake
Idols made of a spirit I’ve defined
As pure against all matter and confined.

7 Let my foe’s fate be as the sinners’,
Let my attackers be no winners.
8 For what hope has the hypocrite,
Though he wins, Allah burns his mitt.
9 In trouble will El hear his cry?
10 Will he take delight in Shaddai?
And call on Allah for a try?
11 I’ll teach you by the hand of El:
What’s with Shaddai I shall not quell.
12 See, all of you have seen the thing,
So why sink in vanity’s ring?
13 This is the lot of wicked man
With El, heritage of who plan
Oppression to get from Shaddai.
14 His many sons were born to die
Without food though they multiply.

The concept of a God so spiritual
That nothing in creation satisfies
Her longing to be shoved against the sties
Of cornered in a lonely lane by wall
Job calls a vanity, a common word
Known in the Scriptures for an idol turd.
The depredations Job calls on his foes
Are justified and justifying goes
By the fact that His view of You is sound
Against the heathen harpies on the round.
Beloved, I too call down destruction on
The false theologies I myself spawn
And cling to, to say nothing in degree
Of those who hold the blessèd Trinity.

15 The rest shall be buried in death,
His widows will not waste their breath
To weep for him. 16 Though he heap high
Silver like the dust, though he buy
Clothes abundantly as the clay,
17 He may prepare it for a day,
But the righteous shall wear the lent,
And silver go to innocent.
18 He builds his house as a moth might,
Like the shelter a guard might cite.
19 The rich man shall lie down, but he
Shall not be gathered up to see,
His open, staring eye shall be.
20 While terrors take him like a flood,
Night tempest steals him for the mud.
21 The east wind carries him away,
And he departs, and as a grey
Storm hurls him from his place to stay.
22 God shall shoot at him, and not spare,
Though he would flee Him anywhere.
Men shall clap their hands at him, and
Shall hiss him from his place to stand.

I like the vision of You shooting arrows
At Trinitarians caught in the narrows
Of spiritual delight to know that You
Punish by plague and pox the righteous few.
I hiss at them and incur every wrath
Political correctness in its path
Can throw at me, and yet I chuckle while
The heathen wilt beneath Your cynic’s smile.
Free-thinkers are a better breed than those
Who claim to be the very ones You chose,
Who think three gods in one in silken clothes
Refine the world by crucifixion’s pose.
Beloved, send out the east wind on the West
And temper it for its own sins in crest.

JOB 28

1 For there’s to silver a vein found,
And place to find gold on the ground.
2 The iron is taken from the earth,
And brass molten from stone of worth.
3 He sets a limit to the dark,
And searches out perfection stark,
The stones of darkness and death’s shade.
4 The mine is scored deep underneath
The dwelling places, without wreath
They there remain without support,
Hanging forgotten from resort.
5 The earth produces common bread,
While underneath its fire is fed.

Job takes a parable for argument
From the earth spread out like a living tent
In peace producing grape and mellowed corn,
But underneath the quiet, secret bourn
Is molten mountain flesh and magma’s fire,
The secret treasures of divine desire,
That may erupt and shall upon a day
When least expected to join in the fray.
I see, Beloved, that what seems peace on earth,
And what seems catastrophic means in mirth,
Are just the surface of reality,
And all Your ways a safe hidden from me.
The comforter who comes in Christian guise
Speaks from his ignorance and is not wise.

6 Its stones are the place of sapphires:
And has dust of gold in its pires.
7 There is a path which no bird knows,
The vulture’s eye does not expose.
8 The lion’s cubs do not tread out,
Nor comes the lion of redoubt.
9 He puts his hand out on the rock;
He turns up mountains by the stock.
10 He cuts out rivers from the stone,
His eye sees precious things alone.
11 He binds the floods from overflowing;
And hidden things he brings for showing.
12 But where shall wisdom once be found?
And where is understanding’s ground?
13 Man does not know its price or cost,
It is not in living land tossed.

Job’s arguments are fair and true no doubt,
And yet I think how much of truth is out
That once was hidden by the sea and shore.
The science of the human eye takes store
Of wonders by the storm that must awake
When curiosity takes bite of cake.
And yet the place of sapphires is still safe,
Despite the many mines the human waif
Digs for discovery of precious light
Reflected in the cold stone to the sight.
Beloved, I hold the wisdom that in gains
Gallops across the human land and plains
And still think that what is not known is more
Than what’s safe in the pockets of the gore.

14 The deep says “It is not in me,”
“Not with me either,” says the sea.
15 It cannot be gotten for gold,
Neither for silver shall be sold.
16 With Ophir’s gold there’s no compare,
With fine onyx or sapphire’s share.
17 Gold and crystal equal it not,
Nor exchange for golden jewels’ lot.
18 No mention made of coral, or
Of pearls: for the price of the store
Of wisdom’s above rubies’ core.
19 The topaz of Cush holds no light
To it, nor even pure gold’s sight.

They used to say that Ophir is a land
In the far west beyond the rushing strand
Of the Atlantic, in the mountain band
Where Incas ruled, and llamas made a stand.
They used to say that Cush was poor of late
And bombed by the Italian head of state,
Who crushed Haile Selassie in his hate,
And disremembered topaz bright and great.
But I turn with an ear to what was said
Beyond the drought, beyond the hungry fed,
And failed not to believe the gold was there,
Nor that the shining stone of Cush’s share
Was worthy of protection and of joy.
I have so thought since I was just a boy.

20 From where comes wisdom, where’s the place
Of understanding in its trace?
21 It’s hidden from all living eyes,
Kept secret from the bird that flies.
22 Destruction and death say “We’ve heard
With ears the fame of what occurred.
23 God understands its way, He knows
The place it stays and place it goes.
24 For He looks to the ends of earth,
And sees the whole sky in its berth.
25 To make the weight for the winds’ treasure
He weighs the waters by their measure.
26 When he made a decree for rain,
A path for lightning by the train
Of thunder, 27 Then He saw and spoke,
He prepared it and searched its yoke.
28 And He said to man, “See, the fear
Of the Lord it is wisdom’s cheer,
Departing from the evil way
Is understanding on display.

Beloved, Beloved, I hear Your wisdom’s clang
Upon the very syllables I sang,
And covet to depart from evil ways
Sheltered in understanding of Your praise.
Beloved, I hear the law proclaimed in fire
And make its statutes heart of my desire,
I see the lightning, hear the thunder blast,
And make the faith of Sinai mine to last.
The words of Job compel me to the trust
Of You who knew the weight of wind from dust
Before Copernicus could tie his shoe,
Before Galileo had come in view.
With every sight of world and sky and lake
I turn toward You and Your banner take.

JOB 29

1 Job further continued his speech
And said 2 Oh, that I now could preach
As in months past, when Ælohim
Watched over me, as it did seem,
3 When His lamp shone upon my head,
And when by His light I was led
Through darkness, 4 just as I was in
The days of my prime without sin,
When Ælohim’s sweet counsel was
Over my tent, 5 when the Almighty
Was yet with me, children not flighty
Were around me, 6 when my feet’s claws
Were bathed with cream, and the rock poured
Out streams of oil for me restored!

Job thinks back on his youth and with a sigh
For good old days that now have passed him by.
The divine counsel found in Decalogue
And in the Psalms and Torah pedagogue
Are sweet to young hearts that are quick to learn
The ways of justice before they can earn
Reward for good and punishment for sin
That would come out in act and fill their bin.
The very rocks give oil to youthful hands
That carry Your deep thoughts and your commands
In heart and mind, in hand and foot and act,
Remembering, Beloved, Your loving pact.
No wonder Job in his affliction minds
The days of joy in youth, the day that binds.

7 When I went out to the gate by
The city, took my seat to try
The open square, 8 young men saw me
And hid themselves, the elders free
Got up to leave. 9 The princes stopped
Their speaking with hands on mouth propped.
10 The nobles held their peace, their tongue
Stuck to the roof of their mouth hung.
11 The ear that heard me, blessed me then,
The eye that saw, witnessed again.
12 Because I saved the poor that cried,
The fatherless with none beside
To help. 13 The blessing of him that
Was ready to perish came sat
Upon me, and I caused the heart
Of widows to sing in joy’s part.
14 I put on righteousness, and it
Clothed me, and my judgement was fit
As a robe and a diadem.
15 I was eyes to the blind in hem,
And feet was I to the lame too.
16 I counselled the poor without due,
What I knew not I searched out too.

The young men are not slow to help the weak,
The widow and the orphan from the sleek.
Job minds how he was quick in hand and eye
To justice, though he’d not alert a fly.
The young are not slow to expect the crow
Of elders and of princes for the show
Of expertise they make when they run in
To combat wickedness and others’ sin.
But Job has lived to earn and learn the view
That rich and the successful in the pew
May be or not deserving of the shoe.
By contrast, poverty is no gauge that
The heart is clean and pure where the weak sat.
The wicked way’s known to both bird and bat.

17 I broke the wicked jaws and took
The spoil out that his teeth forsook.
18 Then I said, I’ll die in my nest,
Days multiplied like sand addressed.
19 My root was spread out by the streams
The dew lay all night on my dreams.
20 My glory was fresh in me, and
My bow was renewed in my hand.
21 Men listened to me and they waited
In silence at my counsel stated.
22 After I spoke, they held their peace,
My speech dropped on them for release.
23 They waited for me as for rain;
They opened wide their mouths to gain
The spring rains. 24 If I laughed at them,
They were not offended by gem,
The sight of my face did not make
Them sad at all and for my sake.
25 I chose out their way, and sat chief,
A king in the army in fief,
And one who comforts those who mourn,
Protecting them from harm and scorn.

Job wonders that his comforters who claim
To be the heirs of righteousness in flame
So quickly change their views of man and beast.
Man looks upon appearances increased.
When wealth and favour deck the brow, they hear,
But when the body’s bent with illness now,
Insinuations lead them anyhow
To outright accusations of the weak.
When gold and silver sparkle, what a man
Says goes without the opposition’s plan.
But when mere wisdom fills his mouth, the train
Rise up in opposition and disdain.
A silk tie’s worth more than the scholar’s note,
A pig’s ear more than good deeds on the float.

JOB 30

1 But now the youth make me their sport,
Whose fathers would not meet report
That I should hire them to keep sheep
Along with my dogs in their heap.
2 What could they do in any case
To help the aged, perished face?
3 For want and famine they remain,
Fled to already desert plain,
4 Who cut up mallows by the reeds,
And juniper roots for their needs.
5 They were driven out from all men,
Followed by cries as a thief’s den,
6 To live in holes upon the plain,
In caves of the earth, in rocks’ main.
7 Among the thickets where they brayed,
They found out nettles and were stayed.

The nettle was a thing I knew already,
But juniper roots as a diet steady
Was something that I hardly knew to claim.
Between the two, I think a man in blame
And fled from civilized society
Could find survival in that double key.
Myself, I’d rather take the berry too
That graces the pine forest of my pew.
Beloved, I bring You thanks that You have set
In desert places instead of the wet
A hidden way to succulence and sweet
For those who miss the table and the meat.
I find about me everywhere the treat
In mushroom, briar and leaf, all things I greet.

8 Children of fools and of base men,
Viler than the earth of their den.
9 Now I’m their song and their byword.
10 Disgusted at my sight, they’re stirred
To flee far from me, though they spit
Upon my face and where I sit.
11 Because He’s loosed my cord and hit
Me, they think I’m a target fit.
12 Upon my right hand rise the youth,
They push on my feet without ruth,
And raise up against me the ways
Of their destruction as for praise.
13 They dig holes in my path and set
Calamity for me to get,
Even though they’ve no helper yet
When they shall have destruction met.
14 They rushed upon me, no restraint,
In desolation not to faint.

Job’s had enough of prissy patronizing.
He speaks up now no mincing and disguising
To say what he thinks of such folk that come
To celebrate his frothing at the gum.
There’s just one right response before the sight
Of man’s calamity before the night,
And that is awful silence and restraint
If not the pouring out of tears by faint.
Most people, my Beloved, are shocked to hear
And see the effects of the storm-cloud clear.
The few that have no sympathy or tear
Are often the highly placed in the drear
Of the religious. Let me find for fear
An atheist when I’ve lost hope and gear.

15 Terrors are turned upon me: they
Pursue my soul as the wind’s way:
My health passes with the cloud’s sway.
16 And now my soul’s poured out in me;
Days of affliction fell my tree.
17 By night even my bones come through
My flesh with no rest for sinew.
18 My covering is changed by that
Great stroke upon me where I sat,
It chokes me and holds me down flat.
19 He’s thrown me out into the mire,
I’m like dust and ashes from fire.
20 I cry to You, You do not hear,
I stand up, You do not appear.
21 You’ve turned into a cruelty
To me, with Your strong hand’s decree
You oppose and come against me.
22 You lifted me up to the wind,
Swept me away and disciplined
To my destruction who’d not sinned.

The whirling of the soul, the dervish right,
Follows the flaming sun, the cold of night,
Until the strength of man is flung from sight,
Dissolved in elements’ refracted light.
The pain of dissolution at the drawn
Wind and the whirlwind flying, coming on,
Sounds in the howling of the dervish pawn,
Illusion of the night, image of dawn.
Beloved, like Job I listen to the wind,
And like Job contemplate where I have sinned
And where I have not, yet the whirling fate
Of all men on the slaughter-ground is great.
Your hand molds body of the clay, Your breath
Blows through the troubled waters of my death.

23 For I know You’ll bring me to death,
To placed appointed to all breath.
24 Yet You do not take in Your hand
Annihilation of the band,
But as they fall save in the land.
25 Did not I weep for the distressed?
Was not my soul grieved when addressed
By the poor and the self-confessed?
26 When I expected a good thing,
Then evil overtook my ring,
When I waited for light of dawn
The darkness came upon me drawn.
27 My entrails writhed and found no rest,
Days of affliction on my breast.
28 I went mourning without the sun,
I rose, cried in congregation.
29 I am a brother to dragons,
The friend of owls come in their tons.
30 My skin is scorched on me, my bones
Are burned beneath the heated stones.
31 My harp is tuned to mourning sound,
My flute to weeping on the ground.

Beloved, if You require the sound of harp
Accompanied by the voice when I carp,
You are not just to expect flute as well
Upon the wind to say a flying spell.
I do not fear the owls, in fact I wish
I heard a few more such voices to swish
Through pine and fir above my house and dish
As I ignore the tolling of the bell.
Beloved, I pray the dragons in their gloom
Might find my paths instead of such in doom
With human hands and hearts that speed me on
To hopeless places shivering on the dawn.
The dragons are the better healers here
Where comforters like Job’s choose to appear.

JOB 31

1 I made a promise to my eyes
I’d not so much as a maid prize.
2 What has Allah made from above?
What does Shaddai hold in His glove?
3 Is not destruction to the sinner
The prize allowed to such a winner?
4 Does He not see my ways, and count
All my steps to find the amount?
5 If I have walked with vanity,
Or if my foot’s not deceit free,
6 Let me be weighed in a just scale
So Allah shall know my right tale.
7 If my step has turned from the way,
And my heart walked by my eyes’ ray,
If any blot stuck to my hands,
8 Then let me sow, in contrabands
Let someone else eat, yes indeed,
Let my descendants go to seed.

Job recognizes that You see his ways,
He recognizes that You’re due for praise,
But also notes that in this world of strife,
Both holy and unholy lose their life.
The common fate of men is not decided
Simply by tallying the sins derided
And compensating each accordingly.
That has to wait until the day set free
For judgement when all faces once appear
Before Your face and lose their charms sincere.
Beloved, all men await that day with fear
Or with the ignorance that it is near,
Or with the hope that You in mercy stand
Before the throne of judgement in command.

9 If my heart has been once deceived
By a woman, or unrelieved
I’ve been in ambush at the door
Of my own neighbour for his store,
10 Then let my wife lie in the bed
Of another man where he led
To copulate with him instead.
11 This is a crime, iniquity
To be judged so outrageously.
12 For it’s a fire consuming all
That I have left in barn and stall.
13 If I despised the cause of my
Manservant or maidservant by
Their struggle with me, 14 why should I
Then make complaint when El stands up
And casts upon me like a tup?
15 Did He who made me in the womb
Not make him too before my doom,
One to fashion us both in room?

That’s pretty strong for language that Job uses,
The kind that takes both long and short for fuses.
He says if he has done a thing that meets
Criterion for punishment on streets
Or market-places or before the gate
Of any city where the elders wait,
Then let the neighbour muck his wife and be
Done with the rage and with hypocrisy.
And yet, Beloved, by end of book You state
As at beginning, come now soon or late,
That Job is perfect and one that eschews
The evil and loves good by every muse.
If You accept such language in the pews,
That’s Your concern, for myself I refuse.

16 If I have withheld from the poor
What they want or need of the sure,
Or cause the eyes of widow dame
To cloud up for lack of her claim,
17 Or if I’ve eaten all alone
And left the orphan without bone,
18 For so my father from my youth
Taught me not to do, it’s the truth,
19 If I’ve seen any languish for
Lack of clothing, poor at my door,
20 If his loins have not blessed me, and
If he were not warmed with the band
Of my sheep’s fleece so he could stand,
21 If I have lifted up my hand
Against the fatherless, when I
Saw I could help or at least try,
22 Then let my arm fall from its socket,
And broken to the bone to rock it.

Job is so certain that he’s done no sin
For which he’s being punished in the din
That he says let the arm fall off and break
If anyone can testify and shake
His witness that he’s kept as well as can
Your law in this world under heaven’s span.
He’s not one to proclaim his righteous worth,
He’s not out to claim salvation on earth
By doing good works and against the will
Of Luther and of Calvin on the hill.
He merely tells the same truth You once told
At the beginning of the book and bold.
He cannot lie in his integrity
To satisfy his comforters all three.

23 I held El’s destruction in fear,
His sovereignty kept on my gear.
24 If I have put my hope in gold,
Saying to the fine gold when sold,
“You are my confidence made bold,”
25 If I was happy to be rich
By getting with my own hand’s stitch,
26 If I saw the sun shine or moon
In brightness 27 and my heart gave boon
To worship them with idol’s kiss,
28 This also would have been to miss,
A sin before the judge, for I
Should have denied El in the sky.

It seems that in days long since gone a man
Could look up in the sky and try to scan
The body of his gods who wandered there,
Or rather followed their paths in the fair
Of vanity before the eyes that can.
No doubt the colour of the sun itself
Gave the idea that gold was made by elf
To be the flesh and blood of the great god,
And the moon was the pattern for the pod
Of silver, and so wealth was born to cast
A shadow on the life of man and blast.
If no one makes an idol now of those
Dead bodies in the heavens, some men chose
To make an idol still of gold that shows.

29 If I rejoiced when others fell
Who hated me, or lifted well
Myself in gladness at his fate,
30 Or sinned by wishing on his pate
A curse, 31 if the men of my tent
Said they went hungry when they went,
32 The stranger did not sleep outside,
I opened my doors to confide
In travellers, 33 if I tried to hide
My sin like Adam [red earth], in my pride,
34 If public opinion abide
In my fear or I make my way
According to how high the pay
Of others was to make me stay
And not speak justice, but to stray,
35 Oh that one would hear what I say!
See, I wish Shaddai’d speak to me,
And give proof of His enmity!
36 I’d take the load upon my back
And wear it as a crown for lack.
37 I’d tell Him every step I’d taken,
Like a prince beside Him unshaken.
38 If my land cries against my stain,
Or its furrows likewise complain,
39 If I have eaten without pay
Its fruits, or caused to go astray
The owners of the plot away,
40 Let thistles grow instead of wheat,
And cockle for the barley treat.
Job’s words are ended in defeat.

Three things Job offers up in testimony
That his claim to justice is not one phoney:
He says if he is sinful let the male
That lives next door take some of his wife’s tail,
And let his arm drop off and broken lie,
And let his fields bear thistles on the sly
Instead of wheat once planted or then rye.
That’s saying quite a lot, but then I see
How he was provoked by humanity
In the strange figures of his bonny three.
Beloved, I come to end of Job’s words here,
I’ve listened to the argument with fear,
And vote for Job, that You set all things right
Upon the day of judgement after night.

JOB 32

1 These three men ceased to answer Job,
Because he wore a righteous robe
In his own eyes, or so they thought.
2 Then the anger of Elihu
Son of Barachel, Buzite crew,
Of the kinfolk of Ram in plot,
Flared up against Job and enflamed,
Because he justified and claimed
That he was right, not Ælohim.
3 Also against his three friends’ dream
He shook with ire, because that they
Had found no answer for their way
Of damning Job in their esteem.
4 Now Elihu had waited till
Job had spoken and said his fill,
Because they were older than he.
5 Elihu, when he came to see
No answer in the mouth of three,
Then he flamed up and was angry.
6 Elihu son of Barachel
The Buzite answered and said well,
I’m young, and you are very old,
So I was afraid to be bold
And speak my mind out clear and cold.
7 I said, “Days should speak, and the pile
Of years teach wisdom and not guile.”

The fact is Elihu’s presented as
A teenage wonder full of all the jazz
Obnoxious self-esteem creates in all
Who grow up too fast like a weed on wall.
There are some who think Elihu’s speech wins
The prize against his elders’ wings and fins,
But such who do approve theology
From him fail to remember what we see
Of anger in his disrespectful spree.
Of course the whole thing’s literary fancy,
And not report of what a youth gone dancey
Is like to say. It’s couched in poetry.
Somebody may have added to the book
Thinking it was too short to take a look.

8 But there’s a spirit in a man:
The inspiration and the plan
Of the Shaddai to understand.
9 Great men are not wise, neither do
The aged have judgement in view.
10 That’s why I said listen to me,
I’ll show my opinion freely.
11 See, I have given you respect
By waiting for your words select,
I listened to your reasoning
Whilst you tried to search out the thing.
12 I listened attentively, but
Not one of you could convince shut
Mind of Job or answer his words.
13 Lest you should say “Like soaring birds
We’ve found out wisdom: El has put
Him down and not man under foot.”
14 Now he’s not said a word to me,
So I’ll not reply by your scree.

The pretence of respect Elihu spews
Is so incredible, I blow my fuse.
No wonder fathers find their teenage sons
More than they know to handle on their buns.
His greatest claim is that he will not speak
With the same arguments that Job found weak
When expressed in the mouth of trinity
Of his abusers on their gallant spree.
Let me, Beloved, here just express a doubt.
I’ll see if Elihu for all his shout
And cant comes up with something new to hear
That Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar fear.
So far I’ve found that blind speakers are blind
Whether young or old, blunt or else well-tined.

15 They were amazed, replied no more,
They left off speaking at the door.
16 When I’d waited for them to stop
Their prattle and spinning like top,
17 I said, I’ll answer my part too,
And I’ll show them a thing or two.
18 Because I have a lot to say,
The spirit in me comes to sway.
19 See how my paunch is like a sack
Of wine without a vent to slack,
Ready to burst like bottles new
Of wine bubbling to come to view.
20 I’ll speak, and so relieve myself,
I’ll open my lips like an elf.
21 I’ll disregard each man’s estate,
And forget titles soon and late.
22 For I’m not used to flattery,
Nor does my Maker lend them free.

I think it is not rare among the young
To think it virtue to forget the rung
Of honour climbed and titled in their way
By their fathers and uncles on display.
Pretence of not giving a care at all
To who is titled or not at the ball,
Is not the virtue of egality,
But simply shows that the youth in degree
Has not yet had the time to gain trophy.
Beloved, I have been young and now am old,
I too have been unwise and just as bold,
And while it may be late to make correction,
At least keep me from foolish insurrection.
Titles indeed are often bought and sold.

AUTHOR: THOMAS G. MCELWAIN

Copyright © 2007 Adams & McElwain Publishers and Thomas McElwain First Published in two volumes, The Beloved and I 2005, and Led of the Beloved, 2006. Second Edition, 2010 Third and revised edition, 2012 All rights reserved. No part of this verse commentary on the sacred Scriptures may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from publisher.

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