Job's Wife

Job's Wife

I am just the wife.
The wife of a man.
A mortal man who is revered.
Who is revered so much that God allows him to be tested.
This is not fair.

But I am just the wife.
The wife of a man who has lost everything he owns.
Everything I own.
Who lost everything he owns, including his children.

Ten children.
Ten children I carried in my womb and felt kick against the side of my ribs.
Ten children I balanced on my hip and sang to at night.
Ten children I've now buried into the dusty ground.
My children.

But I am just the wife.
The wife of a man with seeping sores running the entire length of his body.
A man who scolds me for doubting and shouts at my sadness.
A sadness that goes unnoticed.

Ten graves dug deep in the earth.
Twenty cheeks I will never again kiss.
One hundred fingers that will never wrap around my own.
The unnamed wife of a God-fearing man I no longer recognize.