In the Image of my God

Dyed black hair
With heavy black clothes
Dark outlook
And angst that grows

And who am I, to scoot away,
Sigh, and then, to simply nod?
And who am I, to overlook
The lasting image of my God?

A grating voice
And vaunting sneer
Gossipy habits
Always insincere

And who am I, to roll my eyes,
And question if she ever cares?
How can I hate her, and not
Hate the God whose fingerprints she bears?

Always clumsy
Never "all there"
Speaks incomplete thoughts
To reflect her blank stare

And who am I, to feel such pride
In fluency and an organized mind,
And then forget that I am naught
but walking dust with borrowed time?

It seems the more I love humanity,
The less I love mere people
In all my pride and vanity
I find none to be my equal

So who am I, to find You still
Accepting me despite my fraud?
For all my skill, I can’t discern
The very image of my God