Immerse: Poets Full Volume - Flipbook - Page 288
276
IMMERSE
•
POETS
when it is swollen with ice and melting snow.
But when the hot weather arrives, the water disappears.
The brook vanishes in the heat.
The caravans turn aside to be refreshed,
but there is nothing to drink, so they die.
The caravans from Tema search for this water;
the travelers from Sheba hope to find it.
They count on it but are disappointed.
When they arrive, their hopes are dashed.
You, too, have given no help.
You have seen my calamity, and you are afraid.
But why? Have I ever asked you for a gift?
Have I begged for anything of yours for myself?
Have I asked you to rescue me from my enemies,
or to save me from ruthless people?
Teach me, and I will keep quiet.
Show me what I have done wrong.
Honest words can be painful,
but what do your criticisms amount to?
Do you think your words are convincing
when you disregard my cry of desperation?
You would even send an orphan into slavery
or sell a friend.
Look at me!
Would I lie to your face?
Stop assuming my guilt,
for I have done no wrong.
Do you think I am lying?
Don’t I know the difference between right and wrong?
“Is not all human life a struggle?
Our lives are like that of a hired hand,
like a worker who longs for the shade,
like a servant waiting to be paid.
I, too, have been assigned months of futility,
long and weary nights of misery.
Lying in bed, I think, ‘When will it be morning?’
But the night drags on, and I toss till dawn.
My body is covered with maggots and scabs.
My skin breaks open, oozing with pus.
“My days fly faster than a weaver’s shuttle.
They end without hope.
6:16–7:6
