Sackcloth and Cowl

Job answers.

Have I wronged you, my former friends,

Or murdered a dear wife or child,

That bitter hatred goes so wild

Against the wretch it reprehends.

Your opened jaws are like a cowl

That fastens on my skull and gnaws.

You injure me more than cruel laws

Have ever punished the most foul.

Your living children prosper, sons

Have fathered sons, an added share

Of blessings, more than wheedling prayer

Importuned in its orisons.

Not even multiplied, but squared,

Your health, and wealth, and progeny

Can’t give one fraction of the glee

Sucked from how badly I have fared.

My suffering will not suffice

And so to sweeten your sick joy

You mock the soul these plagues destroy.

To you my hell is paradise.

I wear this sackcloth as a shirt

But your abhorrent discipline

Would stitch the mantle on like skin

And take your pleasure in my hurt.

No needle boring through my hide

Could hurt as much as how you pour

Gall on a bleeding, open sore,

Or how you smirk when you deride.

To you, my agony is bliss

And your enjoyment of my grief

Keelhauls my tatters on a reef,

Friends who accuse by a false kiss.

I may deserve the punishment

The Lord has sent to chastise me,

But there’s no crime, no perfidy

Merits your passion to torment.