Which is of course irrational,
But rationality is playing with
Objects already on the ground
And all these were beyond it
With the barest chance someone
Might intervene. No one ever
Did though, nor would. She
Thought he could but being
Sinful as the pastor said thought
He wouldn’t. Moving toward
A denouement with God which I
Didn’t enter into wholeheartedly
Could I believe and reject everything
At the same time? Did Job rebel
Or was he justified in God’s
Eyes? Am I justified in anyone’s?
Maybe not, or maybe in a small way,
Waiting patiently at Gethsemane,
Sleeping a little perhaps but waking
At every sound, not sleeping so much
She would ever reproached me for it.
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