What
I Am
When
people ask if I’m a writer
I say,
“No, but I love to write.”
To put
my feelings down on paper,
Release
them from my heart,
Give
them honor,
Offer
them to the world.
I’m
not sure what it means to be a healer,
But
I’ve always been able to quiet a crying baby,
Or
find the right words to offer comfort.
I have
held the hand of a friend during chemo,
Smiled
into the eyes of strangers,
Given
my last two dollars to a homeless man,
And I
hope, in these small ways,
I am
healing this planet.
I’ve
never thought of myself as religious,
But
when I am sitting on the banks of a river,
Standing
in a cathedral of trees,
Or
looking into the stars at night;
When I
love without walls,
So
deeply that we become one person
Without
beginning or end,
In
these times I feel God by my side,
And I
think,
“This
is what religion is to me.”
There
are so many things that I am not,
So
many things I never will be,
But
it’s what I am that defines me,
And to
me, that’s what really matters.
Rishell
Graves
April
22, 2010
