Job’s Cycle

In dirt the texture of his
own sadness Job covers
his scabs with the day dust of
the desert and speaks words
to wet the inside of the Earth.
Suffering suffers its own wounds.
Eliphaz believes no accidents
happen without some beast aroused
in night waters; it stirs into life
the smallest coin of joy
because sadness carpets its way.
Throwing jewels before Leviathan
brings from the deep afflictions that
pass him by—scales from scabs
turn to beetles, crawl
across his face seeking forgiveness
searching for solace
in the red glow of an exhausted sun.
Eager to dissolve along earth lines,
mockery’s reach is futile.
Job reaches for his cane, enters
his tent haunted by sweet confusion.
His love of the dust emerges from hiding
offers him manna (the bandage has not
yet been invented).
Inside his tent a small fire
cooks to cinders each whirlwind
that spirals through the flaps of
hide.
Far in the corner against the
animal skin
the moon rises in red splendor.

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1 Comment
  1. I did a 6wk study group with Edinger’s book on Job and your Job’s Cycle is such a beautiful “dusting” of memories and lessons learned over and over again. Each line is bread for my soul. Thank you, Ann Kennedy.