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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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In someone's life, a storm was born

A storm was born the day he chose
The crooked path, the sharpened lie.
Not from the sky, but from his soul,
Where quiet warnings learned to die.

It thundered first as gentle rain—
A chance to stop, to turn, to see.
But habits hardened into chains,
And cruelty dressed itself as free.

Each selfish act fed darker clouds,
Each wounded heart became the wind.
Karma kept count, though never loud,
It wrote his name in storms within.

He blamed the world, the gods, the night,
For Mudd, he dug with careless hands.
Evil never feels like evil’s bite
When power makes you misunderstand.

Years passed. The storm refused to rest.
No shelter held, no prayer could calm.
For judgment waits inside the chest,
Not in the sky, not in the psalm.

At last the call—no voice, no flame,
Just the truth that stripped away the disguise.
He faced himself, the debt, the blame,
And saw his storms were self-supplied.

Some storms forgive when hearts repent,
Some fade when change is truly meant.
But storms born deep from chosen sin
End only when the soul begins.


© 2025 Gloria Penelope

 

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