image of God

I'm sometimes asked how I imagine God 

- but I don't know I can manage such a feat

I'm working myself a little too hard right now

to start another task I know I can't complete

some imagine him with robes

that flow from him in streams

or old and up in the skies

or, well, in some other extremes

I see it helps to have an image

I don't consider such a sin

but when I start to think of God

I just don't know where to begin

I can imagine an angle

a bush, a light, a voice

I'm fact there's so many angles

I feel I'm spoiled for choice

maybe I'm scared or fearful

or just acting respectfully

but when asked how I imagine God

I don't have an answer within me

Acceptance

I want to make sure that I'll always accept
That causes are happening to enact an effect
The world-that-is is not the world-that-was
And thus world-that-will-be will become because

of the passage of time that occurs to us all
As surely as raindrops both glisten and fall
And so I must never be stuck in the present day
Since today doesn't often happen to stay that way

So with people, too, I must remember they grow
Sometimes into a person I no longer know
And I must accept them for who they now are
Even if my first reaction is they seem now bizarre

Because what is strange to me today may not be tomorrow
So to avoid being a person who will cause someone sorrow
Or pen someone in because I can't imagine so grand
Let me try to always accept, even if I can't understand

The task ahead

I don't know how I'll get past the task before me
But I know I someday will
And I think that is of some comfort to me
While I struggle at it still

***

I normally don't write poems this short - by making myself write a poem a week, short poems seem cheating somehow. But the more I thought about it, the more I considered it complete. So take this overly long explanation as proof I had more words, they just didn't seem right here. And maybe I've written enough now to allow myself more short poems in future.

The final day

If there is a day of judgement
Where my deeds are lain out before me
I wonder if I will get a say
To try to justify how I used to be

It would feel fairer to make a speech
A great diatribe about my life
The why and what and how and why
Just a chance to lift my strife

But, well, I know some who spin lies of gold
And I do not enjoy that craft
Maybe some of them could change their fate
And tell tales after as they laughed

I'm learning, recently, there is a trade
It's often better to be sorry than right
I have caused pain. Not much I hope.
I used to justify myself into the night

But now? I've changed, I think.
It's ok to make mistakes. Even big ones sometimes.
And if there is a final day, I wish to accept that.
Not just be another lost soul arguing crimes