A Curse

Let the day perish on which I was to be born,
And the night that said, “A boy is conceived.”
May that day be darkness;
Let not God above care for it,
Nor light shine on it.
Let darkness and black gloom claim it;
Let a cloud settle on it;
Let the blackness of the day terrify it
And my cries pour out like water.
Let the stars of its twilight be darkened;
Let it wait for light but have none,
And let it not see the breaking dawn;
Because it did not shut the opening of my mother’s womb,
Or hide trouble from my eyes.
Why did I not die at birth,
Come forth from the womb and expire?
Why did the knees receive me,
And why the breasts, that I should suck?
Like a miscarriage that is discarded, I would not be,
As infants which never saw light.
For what I fear comes upon me,
And what I dread befalls me.
Job 3: 1 – 12, 16, 25