What I Am

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