“Purpose”

Earlier this week, I was talking to my boyfriend about some books and poets that initially inspired, and continued to motivate me to write poetry.

Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur showed me what poetry could look and sound like. It also helped heal wounds that I had been trying to move past. Reyna Biddy’s I Love My Love expressed some of the same feelings I’d felt during that healing process. And my all-time favorite poet Arielle Estoria, along with Sarah Wallick, motivated me in my call to write poetry for myself and others with several poems in their book Write Bloody, Spill Pretty.

I’ve found that, as I’ve continued to think about what to write about, sometimes it helps to go back to the basics – like blogging. Blogging is where sharing my writing publicly began. Before that, it was sitting in my room and reading, praying, and meditating to figure out what to write about. And pulling those books back out this week, and just looking through them, reading the poems that really hit home for me, reminded me of my purpose to write.

And I think creatives just need that sometimes – to go back to the origins of where we began to be inspired. It doesn’t mean that we must go back to the exact level of how we created, but it’s a humbling and rejuvenating experience to remember where you came from, and what started it all.

So, I wrote this poem specifically to myself titled “Purpose,” to remind myself why I keep going on writing poetry.

And before or after you read my poem, ask yourself these questions:

What is your purpose?
Why do you do the things you do?
What/who inspires and motivates you?”


“Purpose”

Don’t forget why you began this.
You didn’t have many solid plans moving forward, but

You had a head full of ideas and you
Daydreamed of days in which your purpose was clear.
Through pain and questions, you were led to a thing you never desired to use;
A way of writing that you initially despised, but several poems later,
You found healing there,
And you sought to bring the same
Sympathy, Empathy, and Hope to others.
You longed to have the
Heartbroken be whole again,
The hopeless see Light despite the darkness that surrounded them,
The vagabonds given a place to rest their heads, hearts, and souls.
And through all this you’d
Point to the One Who is the
True Provider of all Comfort,
Who always sees how you and others hurt and
Longs to draw near to them as they draw near to Him.
Presenting True Hope is your purpose,
So,
Don’t forget why you began this.

I gotta keep going.
Mishy
🦋

rest. – Psalm 23:2

Resting used to be really hard for me.

From 2017 until the middle of this year, I was constantly on-the-go. Most days I wouldn’t get to my house until I was ready to rest my head on the pillow at night. There was something about the rush of everything; the constant coming-and-going of my every day that had me on this high.

Maybe all of those meetings, practices, and hang outs validated me. Because I was doing so much, I felt important somehow, I felt needed and wanted. I know for a fact that during those times, I despised sitting down for more than an hour or so, unless I had to wait that long until my next appointment or whatever for the day. If I was just sitting around relaxing, it gave me time to think, which in a sense is good. But I would spend most of that time thinking about what I’m not doing – questioning why I haven’t reached a certain point in my life; why some events occurred and why others haven’t happened yet. That empty space of time I would have to myself would potentially be wasted by me mindlessly scrolling through my phone.

Now, at the beginning of this year, I re-learned how to embrace solitude again. I spent hours in my room writing, reading, meditating, or watching Game of Thrones. But I didn’t mind being by myself. It was only when I began getting busier within my passion, and making new friends to hang out with did the silence and seclusion get to me.

My response to verse 2 of Psalm 23 explains this concept of wrestling with rest. It’s really amazing to look back at what I wrote here because this time last year, I was wondering if anything I’d dreamed of doing and worked towards would come to fruition because I felt like I wasn’t doing enough. I felt like I had to be doing more – meeting more people, being more active on social media, writing more. I was comparing myself to a lot of the writers, poets, and spoken word artists I looked up to, and I felt that resting would set me back.

But being where I am now and reading this piece…I understand the importance of rest more now. I still struggle with taking a break every now and then, and that’s where God stops me by getting me physically ill so I can slow down, or canceling plans I had, or placing someone like my boyfriend in my life to remind me that we can’t always constantly be going places and doing things.

It’s vital to rest. Not just to rest physically – but spiritually, in the presence of God.


“He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.”

Not right now, God.
I can’t rest just yet.
I see all these people making moves, releasing things, doing what I long to do, and I’m not there yet  so I need to get going.
I can’t stop now.
Surely, You can’t be telling me to lie down when I don’t have my stuff together.
Once it’s all said and done,
I’ll be sure to hit up that pasture,
Kick my feet up, and soak it all in.
How sad is it that I refuse to listen to Your Voice gently whispering to me:

“My luvvy, resting is where you begin. Not rushing around, throwing words on a page. Not half-heartedly creating just to have things out there, just to quickly stand on stages upon stages
No. You start here with Me.”

And my restless spirit knows it’s the right thing to do, so, despite the logic my mind wants to throw in my face,
And the passion with which my heart yearns with,
By Your Strength alone, I will take my place in the pasture and
Sit.
Sit still and graze.
Still by the still waters.
And I’ll soak in more of You, and more of the patience I need.
I will be at peace in the waiting.

I gotta keep going.
Mishy

be alright. : Psalm 23

Okay, I knoooowww what you’re thinking…I’ve already failed at blogging every day because I didn’t do it Saturday. Or Sunday. Or yesterday.

But I AM HERE TODAY!

This past weekend brought about unexpected events, and then yesterday was honestly just emotionally hard on me. I am doing better today; honestly trying not to beat myself up for not writing for the past few days.

I guess as I sit here on my bed, going over the past several days, I can just think of this phrase: “Everything is gonna be alright.”

There’s a lot going on in the world, in our country/state/city. In our personal lives. And I honestly am so guilty of allowing anxious thoughts to overrule the joy and peace of God that I know resides within me; that I know will never leave me.

Those who have followed my previous blog posts know that I have written about being a worrisome person since I was a child. And although I feel like I’ve outgrown a lot of my worrisome ways, there are definitely still times in which anxiety takes a hold of me.

Of course, there are some songs that remind me to breathe; remind me that these anxious feelings are only temporary (currently I’ve got “Be Alright,” Kehlani and Ariana Grande’s versions on repeat). And there are other songs that remind me of God’s Peace (“Peace Come Over You” by The Rocket Summer / “Sons and Daughters” by North Point InsideOut, just to name a couple!).

Tonight, I was reminded of Psalm 23, a psalm I memorized for school as a child, but didn’t fully understand until I reached adulthood. I highly suggest that you read it if you are currently going through some worries, overthinking some situations, or feeling anxious about some things or some people. It is a psalm that reminds Christians Who God is to us – a Shepherd who leads and guides us through green pastures (peaceful times) and valleys of death (hard times). Who takes care of His sheep by protecting them and providing for them. Who promises to overflow our cup, and allow Goodness and Mercy to follow us for the rest of our lives.

It’s crazy (but not coincidental) that these thoughts and Psalm 23 have come to mind because exactly a year ago yesterday, my church went through a series that went through a verse or two in Psalm 23 each Sunday, and after each sermon, I started writing little poem/spoken word pieces to the verses and the sermon notes I took. I honestly never wrote pieces for the entire chapter, but maybe it’s time for me to pick back up on it.

And of course, I’ll share with you all what I have so far / what I will write for the rest! 🙂


“The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.” (Psalm 23:1)

But I do want, God. I want and I want and I want, and none of it is You. All of it is people and places and things,
Scenarios I envision that could possibly bring me the happiness I’ve been yearning for.
A new adventure.
Someone to love, and who will love me.
A better place to be in, physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually.
All these things leave me empty, and I wonder why I’m so drained when I don’t get any of them. I wonder why I’m still searching if these things do occur, if they are given to me,
Why am I still lacking?
By Your Grace and Mercy it doesn’t take long to realize that
You are What, Who, Where I wanted
All along.
All this time. I wandered from Your fold, God. Foolishly I went astray, yet You came looking for me and when you found me said,
“I am here. Remember? You are mine.”
And to hear those words so clearly, and believe that they are true
Causes me to fall to my knees and say
“I shall not want, Lord.
I shall not want anything, but You.”

~ written on November 5, 2017

I gotta keep going.
Mishy 
🦋

to: the burdened.

I see you.

As you speak of everything you’ve endured, each instance piles upon your shoulders, weighing you down, causing your head to bow. The boulders of your past regrets press down as the tears fall past your cheeks. I place my hand on your neck, and rub the stones…

I feel you.

With every word, your shoulders shake with sadness, but the burden doesn’t budge. I watch it become heavier, and I move my hands, hoping to bear a little of the weight for you, but nothing seems to shift my way. I know that the things you’re sharing with me are things you cannot change, and I know that me sitting here, attempting to comfort you, will not save you from the demons that continue to stack each painful, guilty position you’ve been placed in on top of you, causing you to groan in grief, or silently keep those shoulders shaking…

I hear you.

With the silence stretching you thin, causing your load to grow heavier upon you, and making you unsteady, I tell you to look into my eyes. And once you muster the strength to do so, I say aloud:

There is so much Grace for you. There is so much Grace in this life.

You, my friend, are too hard on yourself. You’ve had so many people be harsh to you because maybe they didn’t believe in your potential. Or maybe they resented you as a whole. Or maybe they loved you and didn’t think that what you were doing was what was best. Even so, they couldn’t see your vision; they didn’t try to understand. From what I’ve heard, they didn’t listen; they simply impressed upon you what they thought was right, and demand that you embrace their truth.

You’re hurting. I see it in your eyes. I feel it in my heart. I hear it in your voice.

But you have to let go. And so do I.

I have to let go of the fact that I am incapable of saving you. Only One can do that. It isn’t my job to take an ax to the load on your back that’s causing all this pressure from all sides. You long for things to go your way, not just so you can have a better life, but so your family can too, and although that’s all sweet and good, there’s more to it than just that. I cannot convince you to let go. I can only love on you with the Steadfast Love that I’ve been brought up in my whole life.

But you must let go too, my friend. You must realize that the burden you’ve been carrying for too long need not rest on you. Your burdens were paid for so long ago, before you were born, before you were even able to create such chaos, and cause yourself and others so much pain. Yes, it was paid for. Yes, you were died for. On a Cross on Calvary about 2,000 years ago. There’s no need to sit and cry about what you did, what you possibly produced, where you currently are now because it’s not what you’re used to.

What I’m NOT saying is that your feelings aren’t valid; they are. From the things you’ve been through, and the scars that you bear, you have every right to feel everything. But this burden you wear on your shoulders, and reveal when life gets difficult, and the Enemy becomes bold enough to face you with your failures to force you into fear…luvvy, you should not bear it. You cannot bear it, and expect to survive this life.

Take a deep breath. Relax, luvvy. Now, let it go so you can take hold, and take heart, and take the Hand of the One Who created you, and loves you, and longs to take that burden away. His Yoke is easy, His burden is light – lighter than the one you wear, and tend to hold onto.

I love you, but most importantly, so does He.

Mishy

Real Thoughts from Yet Another Poet Tryna “Make It”

So yeah, you might’ve noticed by now that I’m a poet.

Not just another poet…but another poet tryna make it.

The phrase “make it” means different things to different people. To some, it means being well-known/famous/popular. To others it means making a ton of money. Or it can mean that they’ve achieved a particular goal that they’ve specifically set for themselves that has nothing to do with money or fame.

If you want to know what “making it” means for me, it’s this: yes, I would love to be well-known for my poetry. I would love to see copies of my poetry books on book shelves in bookstores, or even seeing the cover while scrolling through books on Amazon. I would also love to make poetry my main source of income instead of working for someone else, like I’m doing right now. But ultimately, “making it” in poetry means this to me – that I connect with someone with my words. That any and everything that I’ve gone through and written poetry about touches someone’s heart, and they’re able to read my work and say, “Yes…I felt that. She gets me. She knows.”

And not only that, but I would love for people to talk to me about faith, and how I incorporate that into my poetry. Because it is a HUGE part of who I am. Do I have it all figured out? Definitely not…but I think that’s the beauty of some of my work as well. It’s less concrete, and more real; because I can’t express how many times I’ve questioned God in poem form. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve prayed poetically, and still not come to solid conclusions about things in this life. But I do know that He is good, that He is loving, that He isn’t afraid to come at me head-on with my questions and queries. And I want people to understand that too.

I feel like “God” and “Christianity” are terms in the society I live in that are cause for eye rolling, and immediate shutdown of conversations. And it breaks my heart that people (including myself) are more comfortable avoiding the topic than delving into it, and boldly asking questions. Not everyone is timid to have these conversations, and although I myself have tried to avoid those brave people for asking questions, I am now realizing that I would rather talk about things than for me to hide in shame or fear of judgment. So I long for my poetry to bridge that gap; to help me start the conversations, so that I can continue them, whether in interviews, conversations at meet and greets, etc.

That is what “making it” means to me. Maybe that means I’ll still have to work a part-time job while doing poetry, or maybe it means I won’t be extremely well-known, just locally known, and if that’s the case, then that’s okay. But if I can connect with people poetically…wow. That’s the biggest blessing, honestly.

So with that being said, you’ve probably also noticed that there are LOT of poets releasing their work these days. From Rupi Kaur to Reyna Biddy to Cleo Wade to r.h. sin and everyone in between, which is amazing. The world needs more poets to write and speak the truths that we sometimes find hard to communicate ourselves, and I am inspired by all the poets I named, and then some.

But honestly…it can be hella intimidating and discouraging sometimes. Do I think that poets need to come together to support and encourage each other in the craft? Absolutely! And I’ve witnessed and been a part of a community of poets that does so, and I’m grateful and blessed for that.

There are times though, when I get discouraged because there are SO MANY poets coming out with stuff that I feel like sometimes what I have to say is irrelevant. I know that every writer and poet has different experiences, and expresses them in different styles and words, but I still wonder if what I write can even connect with anyone anymore. This kind of thinking not only discourages me, but it also causes me to be a little unmotivated. Like, why should I even try if there are already so many amazing poets out there? What difference will my words make in the world anyway?

Of course, this kind of thinking isn’t limited to just poets – I mean, you see how many musicians, painters, mixed media artists, DJs, etc. are out there. Being a creative is a competitive field, and unfortunately, not everyone makes it where they want to be. And that’s something that just scares me – being one of those that doesn’t accomplish the goals and dreams I have for myself. And if that happens, I do have faith that God has a better and bigger plan for me, even though I don’t know what it is. Will it still hurt if I don’t “make it” per my definition? Of course it will!

I’m not writing this post for sympathy; meaning, once you read this, I don’t expect you to send me a message assuring me that my words are relevant, that there’s a place for me in the poetry world, etc. Because I’m just revealing a feeling I sometimes get as a creative, specifically as a poet. Even though this is a negative perspective, there can be positives about seeing other poets succeed – it makes me think that if they can make it through all the different outlets they used (tumblr, SoundCloud, Instagram, publishing a book, etc.), then truly, I am capable of doing the same!

All-in-all, I’m not here for the numbers; sure, it would be amazing to see how many people could be impacted by what I write and speak, but my main goals with my writing are that people can see the lacing of Love in the Gospel through my words; that they can connect with the emotions, feelings, and situations that I write about; and that one day, I am able to look in the eyes of every single person who is touched by my poetry, and hug most of them (all of them if possible) so tight because hugs are important to me, and I want to be able to do that to thank them in person for even sticking with me, ya know? These are things I dream about when I write.

So, after thinking on these things, these dreams (and after being encouraged by one of my big sisters to write down my serious goals for myself), and after being confirmed several times in this gift that God has given me, I know for a fact that my words mean something; that they’re valuable, and that they are relevant. And maybe they’ll only be relevant to one person, or for one season, and that’s okay. If that is all the Lord gives to me, I will be grateful for it.

I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep speaking.

Because, yes…I’m another poet tryna make it. And I believe that I will, indeed, make it in some way.

Mishy

“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

Nothing

But my Father’s grace.

#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 🦋🌿