The Wraith

Eliphaz the Temanite admonishes Job.

By reputation, you are wise,

And you have counseled those oppressed

By sorrow and the bitterest

Of losses by which heaven tries

The hearts of the beloved of God,

But now misfortune’s touched your house,

You slander providence, and grouse

Unfairness shows it is a fraud.

To spurn the gift of life is wrong,

Plaintive ingratitude to Him

Created mortals and the seraphim

Who honor Him in ceaseless song.

To strengthen lapsing faith that cavils

Thought steadfast, but so easily shaken

When God, who gives, for once has taken

I’ll tell of vengeance on its travels.

Pulled from a deep and dreamless sleep

I awakened in the darkest hours,

Those granted to uncanny powers

To roam the realms of men and reap

The tithes our turpitude bestows.

It wasn’t golden dawn that fell

Across my lids and broke the spell

Of slumber, light that glows

And warms inertness into moving,

It was a shadow that awoke

Me, cold and dank and thick as smoke.

Wrathful, pitiless, and reproving.

Loosed from hell, this spirit stalks

The night to punish wickedness,

To slay the sinful who transgress,

And on its rounds this shadow walks

Into my chamber. Terrified

I burrowed deeper in the sheets,

And tried to still the thumping beats

Of my own heart. Through a crack I spied

The shadow drifting to the door.

Soon, gliding through that barrier,

It will depart; unless I stir,

I’m free of my fell visitor.

But then I thought, that wraith, unguided,

Might find and harm some innocent,

But under my admonishment

It could find men who should be chided.

A local knows where sinners live

Swindlers and cheats, burglars and w****s

Knowing the beds where evil snores,

I could scourge sinners, or forgive.

Informing, it was I who’d smite.

Perhaps this shadow has been cursed

To wander, seeking out the worst.

Maybe, someone like me, on a night

Like this, thought he was fit to judge

And in his pride, tried to direct

This wraith to souls it should correct.

That righteous fool, not from a grudge,

Usurped the office of the Lord,

And for that arrogance, became

A horrid wraith, condemned to maim,

Ruin, and murder, till restored

By the next meddler who would point

Out neighbors needing punishment.

Cruel, even if sincerely meant,

Vindictiveness might then anoint

Me the successor to this shade.

This spirit didn’t need a guide.

No mortal, heedless in his pride,

Who passed a sentence, or who prayed

For knaves to suffer, ever told

The Lord of sins He hasn’t seen.

Nor ever should men intervene

To stone the wolves inside the fold.

The rocks they hurl might hit the sheep.

Lightning is so much more precise.

So stifle targeting advice.

Chastened, I went back to sleep,

And let that ghastly wraith proceed.

The vicious and the spiteful perish,

And misers lose the gold they cherish.

Heretics choke on their false creed.

The bulwarks of the wicked fall,

While the meek prosper in the right.

God aids his warriors in the fight,

And saves the humble when they call.