The Power of Words: How Storytelling Shapes Us
A reflection on how the stories we tell, and the ones we inherit, can shape identity, inspire healing, and transform our mindset.
The Stories That Shape Us: Storytelling as Legacy
The stories passed down from our families aren’t just memories, they’re maps. They shape how we see the world, where we come from, and where we’re going. I grew up surrounded by the women in my family switching seamlessly between English and Spanish while gossiping in the kitchen. Their voices layered with laughter, thick attitudes like their New York accent, and the breeze of the island’s waters. My mom is the middle child of six sisters, so she’s mastered the art of bickering with her siblings while simmering arroz con gandules and frying up bacalaítos like she was mindlessly scrolling through her phone.
In our one-bedroom Bronx apartment, packed with my parents’ two biological children, five of my cousins, and a revolving door of neighborhood kids, stories lived in every corner. They spilled out during domino games on sticky summer afternoons, floated down the hallway with the smell of café Bustelo, and echoed off the fire escape where we’d sit watching the block come alive.
I remember the block parties. Jumping in the bounce houses, folding chairs lining the curb, uncles grilling while my father DJed. Music blasting from massive speakers. The music switching to reflect the different tastes of the people who showed up—salsa, freestyle, merengue, bachata, 80s, R&B and hip-hop. We’d take turns dancing in the street and running through the spray of a cracked-open hydrant, squealing and soaked, barefoot and free.
The soundtrack of my childhood was cousins yelling over each other, double-dutch ropes slapping the pavement, and my aunties trading chisme and old-school wisdom like sacred rituals. Even then, I knew those stories weren’t just talk, they were part of my inheritance. They were teaching me about resilience, about joy, about survival. About who we were and where we came from.
These moments shaped my idea of community, and now, in adulthood, I find myself longing to continue this story. A story still filled with love, laughter, and people.
When I think of Jesus, I remember that He, too, was a storyteller. He didn’t just share wisdom with His disciples and strangers all around the world. He shared it with His mother, His brothers, His neighbors. In the book of Jude, His own brother writes not only as a sibling, but as a servant, contending for the faith and truth passed down through family and revelation. Jesus’ parables weren’t just lessons, they were lifelines. They revealed the heart of God and the depth of humanity.
And if storytelling was powerful enough for Him to reach the multitudes, then it’s powerful enough for us to reach one.
That’s why I write. Just as Jude carried the truth of his brother, we carry the voices of our generations. I believe our stories whether cultural, spiritual, personal, they have the power to heal, to honor, and ignite change.
The Weight of Our Words: From Contracts to Calling
Growing up, my dad often said, “Your word is your bond.” At the time, I didn’t realize how deeply those words would root themselves in me. But they did, and they planted the seed for how I understood integrity, trust, and expression.
When I started college, I majored in law, specifically contract law. There was something about the structure that appealed to me. Contracts are clear-cut, binding, and leave little room for ambiguity. Everyone involved agrees to the terms, and each party is held accountable. It felt safe—predictable—even in a world that often wasn’t.
Looking back now, I realize it wasn’t just law that drew me in. It was the power of language. The way a few words on a page could determine futures, outline relationships, and shape what was possible.
Words are a lifeline for me. When I couldn’t speak my heart aloud, I’d write it in letters. When I didn’t know how to pray, I’d journal to God. When I lost my voice, writing helped me find it again.
Whether it’s Scripture, poetry, or storytelling, words have become my anchor and my offering. And I hold them close, because I know what it means to feel like you have none at all.
The Word That Transforms: Scripture as Our Foundation
The Bible is more than just an ancient text—it’s living, breathing truth. It’s filled with stories of success, failures, love, loss, redemption and more. In my darkest moments, God’s words have been my anchor and encouragement I needed to make to the next day.
• When I felt unseen: “You are fearfully and wonderfully made.” (Psalm 139:14)
• When I felt silenced: “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” (Exodus 14:14)
•When I felt useless: “She’s like the merchant ships [abounding with treasure]; She brings her [household’s] food from far away” (Proverbs 31:14)
• When I doubted my purpose: “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works.” (Ephesians 2:10)
Scripture reminds me that words create worlds. From the very beginning of Genesis to Jesus Himself being called “The Word made flesh” (John 1:14). It’s proof that God speaks life, and so should we.
The Rhythm of Healing: Poetry as My Voice
I started writing poetry before I even understood its depth. The first poem that sticks out in my mind is “That Girl” by Alysia Harris. The raw emotion she exuded and the unapologetic way she put herself out there. Unbothered by how others might perceive her. This was her truth, her feelings, and the world (including the guy) was going to hear her.
She echoed so much of what I felt, and she was the first relatable example for me on how I could use poetry as a vessel of expression. It just made sense. Poetry gave me a way to name the pain I carried, the love I secretly longed to express, the identity I hadn’t yet unlocked, and the faith I was slowly building. Over time, poetry became more than just personal expression; it became a way to reclaim my voice.
For a long time, I stayed silent about my wounds.
Trauma stole my ability to speak.
Fear kept me in the background.
But then, I wrote. And through poetry, I spoke.
• I wrote about the things I was too afraid to say out loud.
• I gave language to what I thought was unspeakable.
• I discovered that healing isn’t just found in the words we read but in the words we release.
Poetry is power because it honors both emotion and truth.
And as someone who once felt voiceless, I now know this:
Our stories deserve to be heard.
Speaking Life, Speaking Truth
The Bible, poetry, and storytelling have shaped me because they all point to the same truth: words carry weight.
• They can heal or harm.
• They can bring life or destruction.
• They can draw people closer to God or push them away.
That’s why I choose to use my voice carefully, intentionally, and boldly.
If you’ve ever felt like your words don’t matter, I want to remind you—they do. Whether through a conversation, a poem, a book, a song, or a social media post, what you say carries impact.
So speak life. Tell your story. Share your truth.
Because words have power. And the world needs yours.
What words will you speak over yourself this week? Whether through Scripture, poetry, or storytelling, I’d love to hear what’s impacted your journey. Drop a comment or reply—I’d love to continue the conversation.
#ArielSpeaks #TheSpeakersCircle #PowerOfWords #FaithAndCreativity #SpeakLife