Meet the Poet

How I went from battered & beat up

…on my honey-moon to more whole & happy than I've ever been

Before I wrote a poem that mattered to anyone, but me, there was a little girl with a fat pencil and big heart ~ for words (and people).

Falling in love with words was almost instant. I always loved the way they sounded in my mouth. Loved the way they looked on the page. And when mom made us read, it became my favorite thing ~ that… and running.I fell in love with words ~ fast.

But, I fell in love with me ~ slow.  

but people cut, sometimes, and put effort into reminding me that my dark skin just didn’t fit in. And I fell for those lies for awhile. But when I finally discovered my unique beauty and embraced my own voice. Then, the quiet warrior inside me… started to believe the truth:

God didn’t make a mess when he made you. And it doesn’t matter what they say or what they do. What matters is what gets into you.”

I was awake again. And the plan was to let nothing but light get in. But

I chose to love a man who wasn't ready.

His insecurities became our constant arguments. His secret fears and angry fists became the end to our marriage. And I landed on a 100 bathroom floors in tears, over and over again.

Purging, sometimes, can take years. But the woman I am now has a lot less fear. I’ve met the

brave me”

and she isn’t afraid of facing almost anything ~ I mean those little green lizards still give me a scare

Those first few years after divorce were filled with nightmares. Seemed like my worst thoughts and deepest fears waited to meet me every night when I closed my eyes.

So I learned how to fight.

How to really fight. I mean, people throw around scriptures like slang, but it turns out, those words are alive and can be handled like weapons, if you know how.

So, I devoured them the way a child eats candy.

and poems, prayers and pain, written and typed on jagged journal pages. Phrases like…

beauty for ashes…double for your trouble…fearfully and wonderfully made…look to you and I am radiant…your oil of joy for my mourning”

I was fighting for my peace of mind. I was fighting for my entire life.

Back then, I wrote two things:

And I kept on reading and collecting every scripture that spoke to me. I kept on writing and confessing in poetry. And that tattooed spot in my room became my personal wailing wall.

When the tears came ~ and they came every night for what felt like forever ~ I would walk up to the wall and just read and speak these affirmations through my tears.

I kept doing it until my affirmations became my life, my real life. Until joy returned to my days and nights.  

So, welcome to this space where our lives sometimes become poetry, music, movies & always ministry. Stay tuned! ~ Jamillah, hotPrayers & Poetry