“My Poetry is Ministry”

Recently within the past couple of weeks, I’ve struggled with comparing myself to other creatives, specifically other poets. This caused me to experience a lack of expression because I was too caught up in what other people were doing. I found myself forcing words onto my paper rather than truly finding inspiration in my day-to-day, and I longed to please others rather than to write what I feel, and connect with others through that.

Most importantly, I forgot where my ultimate source of creativity comes from; I fixed my eyes on myself rather than on my Creator who blessed me with the gift of creativity.

After talking with Honey (my stepmom, for those who haven’t been reading my blog recently), I was inspired to write this poem. She said some wise things that I’ve incorporated here, one of which is the actual title of the poem – “My Poetry is Ministry.” I’m grateful to have such a godly woman of the Lord in my life to help steer me back on the right path when I feel like I’ve been lost.

So Honey, I dedicate this poem to you. Thank you for your prayers, and for always looking to the Lord so that you may speak His Word to others. 💛

“My Poetry is Ministry”

My poetry is ministry,

And I have treated it lately with such

Carelessness — scribbling down verses and words to try to impress rather than to

Try to connect.

My focus shifted towards selfish ways and it became more about filling a page and

I let comparison run rampant through my brain,

When what I truly needed was

My Father’s grace – the grace that bestowed this

Gift of words to me in the first place that

Birthed such beauty from ashes that I sat in —

Grieving a loss, questioning the purpose of my pen, trying to

Comprehend where I was headed, where my value lied.

My Father’s grace is the only thing that keeps my poetry alive it

Makes me feel like I don’t even have to try because it

Freely flows and

The inspiration is divine and

I know this to be true because

When I look back at what I’ve written when my heart is aligned,

There’s absolutely no way that it came from my own mind.

So, first things first —

My words are more than just sowed together scribbles that simply sound deep and that,

As my stepmother once told me,

“Could contain hell underneath,” no,

The bars I spit originate from the Most High and are

Spoken and written through me —

“A broken reed, a smoldering flame.”

Yes, my poetry is ministry so

Take my name out of the equation and see


But my Father’s grace.

#MishyWrites 🦋🌿

“My Healing (Growth)” – A Poem


So…I’ve been doing a lot of growing recently. Like A LOT; more-so than I thought when I first began this GROWTH series. And it’s been interesting to see how I’ve handled it; how I’ve had to have my toes lightly stepped on by the observations of my close friends, but also feel them wrap their arms around me in encouragement. How God’s put words, feelings, and situations in my path to help me realize that I wasn’t as far as I thought I was, but also feel Him smile upon me and say, “But I love you anyway, and I’m still working through you. My grace is sufficient.”

I’ll be honest, I have watered myself through so many tears earlier this week. I’ve had to uproot some prideful thinking that was beneath the surface that was eating away at me being able to grow up and grow out of things I was pretending not to idolize. And I’ve had to stop using being busy as a way for me to avoid processing through things so I can heal, and turn my branches towards the true Light.

The poem below describes my healing during a different time in my life, but I love how it still pertains to my healing now. It was created from a prompt out of Alex Elle’s poetry book Neon Soul. I’m excited to share this poem with you, and to keep these words with me as I continue to live, grow, and thrive.

“My Healing (Growth)”

The branches that I thought I needed that
Had potential fruit to bear
Were either cut off by my Maker or
Naturally separated and
At first, I thought it wasn’t fair since they were the
Only branches that seemed to have fruit.
How could God possibly take away these blessings before they could even bloom? Before they could
Grow into something more and
Ripen for others to eat?
They were the only branches that made me feel like my purpose was complete and
Now they’re gone and
It hurts.
The places they used to reside in now ache and I
Struggle to see how this wasn’t
Some mistake, how
This could be good for me in any way.

As the days went on, however, that aching eased and
I no longer envied the branches and fruits of other plants and trees.
My sore spots healed up after much
Sun, rain and love and care
From my Maker, Who despite my
Feeling lonely mostly through this process was actually
Always there, through every step.
And so, more branches began to grow and
Once they came, more fruit did too.
But this time both branch and fruit were firm and strong
So much so that I realized it had to take this long for
Good limbs and good fruit to produce.

This is the story of my healing.

#MishyWrites 🦋🌿

GROWTH – Part 2: watered

While I was staying with my grandparents, and then transitioning to the house I would dog sit at for the weekend, it rained for a couple of days straight. If you know me, rainy weather isn’t my soul weather at all; I take well to extremely sunny days where I don’t need a jacket, and I can where shorts and crop tops.

Truly, as I walked through the pouring rain into my workplace, this is where the “GROWTH” blog series began. Because it was the beginning of March, and I was thinking about how much I’d grown in the past couple of years, even in the past couple of months in 2018, and as the rain fell hard against my rain coat, and my rain boots squished through puddles of water, I thought of myself as a plant being watered.

It made me ask myself: what was watering my soul, my mind, my heart? Just as any plant needs water to grow, I needed things to replenish myself. So, I just wanna share this question and a few more that came from this thought to help you evaluate yourself and where you are:

– What people were helping me recover from unexpected circumstances?
– What atmospheres created a safe space for me to sink my roots in and thrive?
– What was I thirsty for, and what was quenching that thirst?
– Were these things/people/places that were watering me causing me to grow or causing me to wilt?

Even this question ran through my mind: Was I being over-watered by anything, anyone, any place? How could I disconnect from that negative source?

Whatever season you are in – a comfortable place, uprooted to a new place, in need of watering, or maybe even flourishing – I hope you take the time to ask yourself these questions from time to time to evaluate exactly where you are and where you’re headed, and what is helping or hurting you from healing or getting where you need to be.

#MishyWrites 🦋🌿

“uprooted” – The Poem

You moved me and I didn’t want to go.
I complained and sighed at the inconvenience of the timing of my misfortune; I was moved from my comfort zone and
Placed in a spot where I didn’t expect to bloom.
Initially I longed for the familiar dirt that I’d grown so well in…
How was I supposed to realign my leaves and branches back
Towards the sun, towards the Light
That I’d hidden from under shades of
Distraction and shifted focus when
I wasn’t in the secure location that allowed me to
Grow and thrive?
A couple of days later I found that I’d
Slowly adjusted –
That I no longer longed for the soil that I’d built a routine in but
My Maker had realigned my focus back towards Him and
Away from my discomfort, and in the ability of me or my surroundings to
Fix my problems.
My roots, although displaced,
Grew deeper and stronger and more dependent in my Maker’s Hands and care.
My uproot from there to here was more necessary and bigger than my mind could comprehend.


GROWTH – Part 1: uprooted

Due to some unforeseen toilet issues, I was crashing at my grandparents’ house all last week. Thankfully, the issues were resolved towards the end of the work week; however, I took up a dog/house-sitting gig located in the same area that my grandparents live in, so needless to say, I didn’t get the chance to stay in my house at all last week.

At the beginning of all this, I was really frustrated; I had to move a lot of my belongings from my home to a new location, which always means I’m bound to forget something important. My routine was thrown slightly off, although it was nice to be a little closer to work than usual. Last week just wasn’t what I intended it to be.

But as the week went on, my frustration subsided, and my perspective of the situation shifted. This year, my sister and I decided to see my grandparents who live in the area more often than we had in the past, so we see them two Sundays out of the month, hanging out at the house, catching up with them, sometimes eating dinner with them.

Last week I was given the opportunity to be in their lives for more time than I usually am. I was able to talk to them more about specific things affecting my life and their lives. I heard where they spent their time, and who they spent their time with during the week. And of course, I got a lot of grandparent lovin’, and who doesn’t want that?

It made me more grateful to be with them, despite the uproot of my belongings and my routine. Although uncomfortable and inconvenient at first, I see the benefits of being with my grandparents, and even being away from my own home. I can’t say exactly why God allowed this to happen this week, but the thoughts and ideas of an uproot – of changes, shifts, relocation come to mind…

Maybe last week I needed to be separated from my home because I was getting too comfortable with my normal routine. Sometimes monotony can cause me to forget the bigger picture of who I am/who God has called me to be, where I am, what I’m working towards, etc. It can also bring about lack of motivation, which I honestly have been feeling a little bit of. Maybe it was just time to spice things up a bit.

Maybe I needed to get out of my house to realign my focus. Truthfully, February brought about a lot of changes for me – some good, some bad. I started eating horribly again (after Valentine’s Day hit with all that sugar, I could. Not. Stop.), I began doing more things towards reaching my goals, which is good, but I was also losing so much sleep, and I was filling my days with so many events/meetings/hang outs, I would get to the end of my days and wonder what I even did during the day. And, of course, I barely blogged at all during the month because I was doing more running around. I was moving so much, my focus was off. And maybe I needed to just dive into a new space to shift everything back into place.

And I almost finished this blog post, but as I re-read the above paragraph, I can’t help but get excited. Because I used a word that I’d been praying about all last week and into this week, that God would just work through it – the word realignFor me, the significance stems from the line of a song titled “Born Again” by Cory Asbury, in which he sings, “Realign my heart and help me keep the first things first.” All I’m saying is…if this whole week was part of the answer to my prayer, I am extremely humbled and in awe of my God. Like, wow. His care for His children always blows me away.

Maybe my uproot was necessary to stimulate my creativity. It gets harder to write the more normal my routine is, the more comfortable I am with where I am. It also gets harder to write when I’m just crashing in the bed at night instead of giving myself time to wind down like I did at the beginning of the year. I’m telling you, February rocked my world.

And honestly, all of this has inspired a new theme for the month of March – growth. I had already planned to focus more on nature/greenery/green things this month anyway on my Instagram, and for my poetry, but last week the Lord really revealed Himself to me, tapped me on the shoulder, and whispered, Just watch what I do here as I move you up to your grandparents’ house for the week. Wait for me to reveal to you the positives of this uproot, and the lessons you need to learn. Listen to my voice as you go throughout this week in a different way than you normally would. See what I’m showing you? Now, go; work with what I’ve given you, what I’ve put inside you.

So, here I am doing just that. Yes, I’m still working through this, and I’m HELLA EXCITED that I’m in the midst of it. Yes, I just started a little mini-series of blog posts for the time-being, and I honestly wasn’t even expecting it to be like this, BUT HERE WE ARE!

And YES…there will be a set of poems about this. Stay tuned for the next parts of this series and the poems!

#MishyWrites #GROWTH 

“Inspired by ‘The Souls of Free Folk’ by Josiah Golson” – A Poem

With today being the last day of February i.e. Black History Month, and also #WakandaWednesday (took this from Lupita Nyong’o on Instagram 🙏🏽), I have decided to release the written version of a poem I wrote at the beginning of February that was inspired by my dear friend Josiah Golson’s book The Souls of Free Folk. His masterpiece pushed me to really think about my own story of my melanin — how growing up with a white stepfather and Asian mother affected my views on being black, and how it honestly made me less aware of the black culture and some of the struggles within it. I sought to be a part of my black culture, but didn’t feel like I could because I was raised differently, and had never experienced things that my fellow black friends, brothers, and sisters had experienced. Add this with some questions from high school classmates and friends, and I became highly insecure in my biological blackness, and lack of living out stereotypical black culture.

I am grateful that the parents who raised me, and even my parents who lived away from me never made me feel like I was incapable of anything just because of my skin tone. They acknowledged our biological differences, but never made me feel less than; I was always assured that I was beautiful, intelligent, and capable. And being told these things growing up – especially by a white, male father figure – I feel like it caused me to have a mindset that didn’t see me as inferior to white people most of the time.

But now that I am older, I long to be more aware of the fight for equality that people of color are still fighting for. Not only do I want to be more aware, but I want to learn and understand how I can do my part and use my voice and love on the black community as well as other cultures and races.

And so, here are the thoughts that came to mind on February 3rd, after attending Josiah’s book release…

“Inspired by The Souls of Free Folk by Josiah Golson”

I returned to my home with a spark turned ablaze —

A spark that had always longed to be ignited by more than just the

Guilt and shame of inexperience,

Lack of understanding and some


Not to mention some lost identity…

The years I’d wasted thinking I was exempt from such

Hostility simply because of the color of

My family’s skin.

As I grew older and these issues took the spotlight with pressing matters,

My attempts to care and want to have an opinion also grew.

But what could I offer, what could I do

As an interracial girl raised amongst

Mostly white culture

Who’d honestly forgotten and

Somewhat abandoned that piece of her…

At least mentally I did.

But physically, it was there and it still is.

And I feel a responsibility a

Duty to my ancestors, to my family

To speak up, to support

All my black brothers and sisters.

I’ve stayed silent for too long,

Afraid of others’ thoughts on my story my

Lack of struggle,

When really, the life I’ve lived is one that all black people are fighting for:

One in which there is no question of if I’m capable of achieving something

Just because I’m black.

No fear of what other people can do to me

Because I’m black

No caution in any interactions just to stay alive no

Depression from not being chosen

Because the competition was white.

I’m not saying I’ve had the perfect life all black people long to live but

My story is one of massive privilege that not many of my brothers and sisters can say they’ve had.

And it aches my heart and soul to see that

The life I’ve lived isn’t the norm for all.

And with this flame, I long to speak life and love and care to

My black brothers and sisters —

To firmly stand beside them as they continue to fight for equality,

To proudly be aware of my own black heritage to

Embrace it with all that I am.

To remind each and every one of them that,

Yes, luvvies,

Your lives do matter, and

You are kings and queens, you

Are capable of accomplishing anything and becoming anyone you want to be because

Your dreams aren’t defined by

The color of your skin, no.

Yes, claim your heritage proudly, and

Remember those other things

Come from within.

#MishyWrites 🦋


I started last week talking about positive talk – how the way you talk to yourself affects your attitude, your actions. And quite honestly, by the end of the week, all of that had gone out the window for me.

All of my energy had been drained. I sought solitude despite the fact that exposing myself brought me joy and new opportunities and friends. Yet, a couple of weeks of this kind of lifestyle brought me to a place where I couldn’t really depend on anything to make me feel good.

I understood that “The joy of the Lord is my strength,” but believing it became harder as each hour passed. Everything began to shut down – physically, my body was exhausted. Mentally, my mind warred with thoughts of compromise and surrender to things I never thought I’d consider. Spiritually, I felt distant from where I’d been in January, but I knew that God was still with me. That His plan for me was just beginning that 2018 was still going to be my year. Emotionally – I’d taken a toll. Unexpected circumstances that ended as quickly as they began left me questioning my worth, wondering if all this hurt I was feeling was worth the things and people I was pursuing. Was it worth it for me to do all I had begun to do in order to make a process a reality; a dream come true?

People have always told me it wouldn’t be easy, and they were right. The warfare is real, and if I’m not focused on what I need to be focused on, I will suffer under the Enemy’s bark and bite.

“Realign my heart and help me keep the first things first.” — “Born Again,” Cory Asbury

#MishyWrites 🦋