Sainthood

I am no more a saint
Than the woman who stands on a street corner selling herself
While her six year old son watches from the window nearby.

I am no more a saint
Than the man who looks at pornography for hours on his computer
And sleeps with his wife after hours.

I am no more a saint
Than teenage boys who share stories of popularity
Then go home and wonder who they are inside.

I am no more a saint
Than teenage girls who make fun of those not as fortunate as them
The ones who lend themselves to fellow classmates just to feel whole.

I am no more a saint
Than every other human on the planet
Who wishes for change
And revolutions.

I am none of things.
But that does not make me a saint.

It makes me a woman of stature
Who adores life
And love
And everything between.

I am no saint.