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When Your Hands Are Empty #poemofhope #faithpoetry #spokenwordpoetry

There will be a season when you have done all you know to do and still, nothing. No answer at the door. No sudden change. No sign in the sky telling you that tomorrow will be kinder. Just you, your unanswered prayer, and the strange silence that makes you question whether God is still listening. He is. Do not mistake silence for absence. Some of God's deepest work happens without making a sound. Roots grow in darkness. Healing happens beneath skin. Morning begins long before the window knows there is light. And somewhere beyond what you can see, your life is being moved by hands you cannot follow. So do not abandon your faith because you cannot trace God's footsteps. You were never promised a clear view. You were given enough light for the next step. Take it. Even if your knees shake. Even if your heart has questions your mouth is afraid to ask. Take it. Faith is not a life without uncertainty. It is waking up with uncertainty beside you and refusing to let it choose your direc...
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Hail in my life #poem

Life leans crooked on my shoulders,
never weighing the same for all.
What falls on me comes sharp and sudden,
hailstones instead of rain—
each moment bruising, each day cold.

The world feels like a sentence passed
without a trial, without a voice.
Everything around me looks like punishment,
as if I’ve been named the culprit
for crimes I don’t remember committing.

Hatred hangs in the air I breathe,
invisible, yet certain,
and karma circles my name
as though my existence alone
demands repayment.

I cry—not loudly, not beautifully—
just the quiet kind that seeps into bones.
There is no mercy in these hours,
no sweetness to soften the taste.
Life presses lemons to my lips
and calls the bitterness growth.

Still, I stand—sour, yes,
but breathing.
And even hail must melt,
even storms grow tired of themselves.
If karma is working,
then so am I—
enduring,
unbroken enough to remain here. 


© 2025 Gloria Penelope



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