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Like Job

Like Job I talked
with the Lord
and couldn’t comprehend,
where my life was going
and from where
all my misery comes?

Then I saw an old man
with a metal cup
in his hand
walking past my motorbike
and his clothes was in tatters
and hope was in his eyes

Then I realized
how much better my life is
and that God
still sees every thing.

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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