|Written in iambi pentameter. A shortened Sestina.
"Conversation with Job"
"Job sits in the shade of his tree of life.
Job's body is tortured without God's grace.
Zophar, a friend, shakes his head in his hands.
“Ask God to forgive your cruel deeds, my man!”
“A misleading windbag you are, old man!
What have I done? I’ve led the self-less life.
Once power and wealth were in my strong hands
Now babies lost to disease with no grace!"
“Your wagging tongue tells me you have no grace.
Your speech is as wind to my ears, old man.
My gold rings replaced with boils on my hands
when I have done naught to deserve such life!”
“I’m like the poor sleeper, churning through life
who tosses, waiting for the morn; for grace.
There's no Court of Appeals for labored hands
though I pray God will hear me as a man.”
“Consider the cause. You're a wayward man,
Job. Your father's sin passed on to your life.
We are shadows, wrought by yesterday’s hands
yet forefathers knew of a future grace.”
"Hold your peace! Let me speak for my God’s grace.
Though he slay me... are you listening, man?
Though he slay me, my love rests in his hands.
Though he slay me, my faith remains for life."
Job won God’s grace as a true, loyal man;
his hands restored to glowing, future life.
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