Keep Creating

When I was six years old, I wrote my first poem. I remember the moment very vividly. I was standing in the driveway of my family’s home, when I looked into the sky. It appeared that a storm was approaching, and I could hear the rumble of thunder in the distance. That is when these words rose up from within me:

“What’s that I hear?

A thunderstorm near

Oh my dear”

These words may not seem significant to you, but they mean the world to me. This was the birthplace of my relationship with poetry/writing.

Before I had friends. Before I knew how to communicate with my family. Even before I knew God. There was poetry. Poetry is how I process and communicate with the world around me. I would even say it was the starting point of God’s pursuit of me. When I write, I wish I could say I was the source, but I am not. The words seem to just flow from deep parts within my nephash (soul) that even I haven’t fully experienced. It’s like giving birth.

Last week, I was both humbled and deeply inspired when asked to be a featured artist for an event. I did nothing to deserve that platform. I did not strive for it. I did not ask for it. Yet, it was offered to me by people who could see my art even when I was not creating. I was blessed with the opportunity to display my short film and perform my poetry.

It felt like a dream the entire night. Even as I recited the poem I had rehearsed all week, I could not understand how I had grabbed the attention of everyone sitting in the bar. I could not believe they cared and related to the words of the piece, and I still can’t. However, God wanted to show me what He had been telling me all along.

I am a writer. 

He wants me to create. He wants me to be a storyteller. He did, in fact, place this gift inside of me. My poems are not in vain, and they do matter. They are part of my light. I always believed I was placed here to do great things, but after life knocked me down for seven years in a row, I was starting to think it was just a fantasy. But it’s not. It’s very real. I believe God let me go through the journey I have been on, because he wanted me to remain humble. He wanted to teach me that it will not happen by my strength but by His alone. Everything He promised will happen, but only because of His power. Yes, I still have to be obedient, but I don’t have to map out every detail of my life. Besides, our humanly plans never seem to work out anyways. Instead, I must always recognize that God is in control.

I did nothing to deserve that stage, but God gave it to me. I choose to believe this is only the beginning. I am a writer. I am a poetess. My words matter. I have a story inside of me that only I can tell. All I have to do is…

…keep creating.

The rest is up to God…

…and I think I’m in good hands.

5-7-2018 11:54pm

There is a story only I can write-only I can tell.

There is a story the world needs to read-the world needs to hear.

Tonight, I commit to that story-my dream. I commit to my calling-God’s calling. I will not leave this earth before it has been birthed.

-Juaquina She

I Have Something to Say

I wish I could adequately put into words the closeness I experience with God. This is my desire, not so that you will feel I am holier or try to mimic how I converse with Jesus, but so that you would be encouraged to continue on your own journey. Life will throw you so many curveballs, and these disappointments will have an impact on how you view God. They may push you to lean more fully on Him because you realize He is the only constant thing in existence, or perhaps they might lead to hard questions and difficult conversations that place a proverbial wedge between you and your creator. Whichever direction you find yourself drifting in, just know God is walking with you.

God is my best friend. I think that is a title that gets thrown around without any real weight attached to it these days, so let me be more specific. He knows me. When I don’t speak, He knows how I feel. In every situation He knows how I would best recieve love, and He gives it. He never condemns me (although He has the authority to), He never focuses on my flaws, He never dismisses my emotions. He listens, He speaks, He responds. (Maybe I’m just oppertating in the image of my father with this site. Hmm…). He is so patient with me. He is so kind. He is the perfect love I always wanted but never really believed existed. He speaks to the life inside of me, and holds my hands through every difficult situation. He is literally my best friend.

Life has been difficult. Every year feels like it comes with a new set of heavier burdens than the year prior. Rejection. Debt. Tension. Discontentment. Hopelessness. Depression. Death. Suicidal thoughts. Disappointments. The list keeps going, but the list will never be bigger than God.

All of this is a long winded-introduction to a simple conversation I had with God last night. Through revelation that could only come from God, I was empowered by this truth:

I love writing, and the world could benefit from what I have to say. 

So, I confessed that outloud to God and my empty room. Then God responded in a way that was a lot more loving than how it will read on this post.

God: Now act like it.

I honestly was beginning to question a lot. Let’s just say I was starting to sound like Solomon when he wrote Ecclesiastes…”Everything is meaningless!” I was beginning to walk away from writing and I definitely abandoned the notion that the world would ever hear the things that I have wrote. However, God reminded me who He created by having me look at all of my creative journals. I found my first book of poems I wrote when I was around six years old. Then, I began reading and watching how my writing has evolved drastically throughout the years. In this moment I realized something that may sound vain to you but was something I needed to be reminded of: I am gifted. I am a writer, and I really do love words. It’s hard work creating and growing as an artist. A dream job is far from dreamy. But I really do love writing, and God would not call me back to something for 19 years (from age 6 to 25) if He did not want to use that. Also, I must choose to believe the world would benefit from hearing what I have to say. If I don’t walk in that truth, it would feel pointless to continue writing and striving to get better. Now, that I know these things and I confess these things and I choose to believe these things, I must act like it.

So, world, listen up:

I have something to say. 

 

 

 

Foreign Blessings

Foreign ideas of hope

Fill my heart

“I trust you.”

Is all I can say in the face of my savior

Whom tells me it will get better

Nothing feels familiar anymore

But I choose to trust You

-Juaquina She

Broken Comfort Zones

Source: Unknown

Freedom washes over me with every word spoken

My heart beats on in the quiet of midnight

I fear this place

But, here, outside of my comfort zone

Is my new home.

-Juaquina She

 

It’s A New Day

I woke up today excited! Nothing externally changed, but everything inside of me bloomed in my sleep. Flowers that struggled to push past the pavement, now show off in the cracks of my heart.

I am excited!

I will not fail. I will not lose. I will live in every dream that was assigned to me in birth.

Eyes open. Mind open. Heart beating. I’m here. And I’m ready to live!

 

Mixtape Poetry: Self Care

And tonight

I choose myself

Tonight I decide

I’m going to love myself

I have declared this before

Except this time I realize

Love is not a noun

There is action to be taken

Tending to my own needs

Nurturing the soil of my soul

Cultivating the ground for growth

 

Pouring into my cup

Wisdom

Pouring until it spills over

Tenderness

Tonight I choose to pay attention

To the language of my own body

What is it saying?

The foreign tongue of my emotions

What are they reflecting

About the world around me?

 

Tonight I choose me

Under the stars

I see my own reflection

In the faint light of the distant moon

I stand looking for no one

Waiting on no one

Because I am all I need

Sitting in the echoes of my essence

Basking in the ambience of my being

 

Tonight?

I choose me.

A new video is posted every Thursday for my Mixtape Poetry series! Subscribe to my Youtube channel to stay up to date with new videos! This is video 6 of 7

What I Wish I knew

I wish I knew more writers before embarking on this journey to authorship.

I wish someone would have told me the hard stuff.

Like…being a full time writer can be lonely. That spending 40 hours a week in complete solitude with you, yourself, and your thoughts is challenging for even the most extreme of introverts. That letting your thoughts run wild is scary, because you have always been told not to. That it’s so important to allow your mind to wander, for it is only then will you discover what is really inside of you. That writing is a journey into the depths of self, and self is sometimes unpleasant to observe.

I wish someone would have told me to get out the house more. To mingle. To take time to look away and do mindless activities. That using your gift so much can be draining, so extracurricular activities are a must. That your friends won’t understand what you’re going through. That people will keep asking what your life plan is as if writing is just a hobby and you need to get a “real” job. That even the people closest to you just won’t get it all the time. That your vision is not a shared experience….the only person that can see it is you. So, being your own cheerleader is a must.

Most importantly I wish they would have told me to stop caring. Immediately. Stop caring about opinions and criticism. Stop caring about the reader when you’re writing (they only matter afterwards). Stop waiting for people to celebrate milestones, because they really don’t understand your struggles. Stop caring about the outside noise. Stop caring about things that don’t matter.

I wish someone would have told me that I am the most important person in my own journey.

I wish someone would have told me to love self furiously even when I can’t stand to look at myself.

I wish I was taught earlier what it means to live an unapologetic life.

But that’s okay, because I learned. My first five months as an artist was damn hard. It was one of the most challenging moments of my life, but I am so much stronger now. I am so much wiser. I am a better version of myself, and I’m ready to continue ahead.

One step at a time. One lesson at a time.

If you are thinking of pursuing artistry full time, well…this is me telling you what was never told to me.

Pittsburgh

“What happens to a dream deferred?”

It grows

And expands

It takes time to decide

Whether suicide is its destiny

Or if life is the only way

 

It lies down and weeps

Rolling around in the possibilities

Of “what if’s” and “could be’s”

Self-pity is the initial reaction

To a dream left in the shadows

Of life’s troubles

 

What happens next?… is not the decision of the dream

But the dreamer

What happens next… is the thoughts

The resilience

The courage of the one who gave birth to such a thing

The one responsible for the care and tenderness owed

 

My dream

Left alone

Tucked away

And hidden

Accumulated dust

Lost it’s luster

But it did not falter

Once discovered again

I realized it

Was the same

Everything inside of it did not wilt

Rather it grew in wisdom

As my life grew in length

 

And now

It lives

Inside of me

A mature version of childish passions

Plays on in the fantasies of my mind

With more room to develop into

The woman who will not forget

To allow her heart to beat

Now the boundaries are being broken

Letting adventures unfold and take shape

 

A dream is not a silly thing

A dream deferred thing can be a strong thing

And a dream pursued is a sure thing

A new video is posted every Thursday for my Mixtape Poetry series! Subscribe to my Youtube channel to stay up to date with new videos! This is video 5 of 7

To My Fellow Writers

Am I the only one that sometimes writes from a place of mystery?

Most of the time, I have a purpose, and I write with intention.

Then there are times the words just slip onto the page from a place I am unaware of. I would say it’s my heart. I could call it my soul, but honestly I do not know the origin. Word after word, pours onto the page and fills up empty spaces I hadn’t even noticed was there.

I call it God.

What do you call this mysterious place of discovery?