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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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They spoke my name #poem #poetry

They spoke my name
like it wasn’t mine.
Bent it.
Passed it around
in rooms I never entered,
in mouths that never asked me anything.

They said it loud,
confident,
Like lies get stronger
When you don’t hesitate.

And suddenly
I was guilty of stories
I never lived,
wearing accusations
like clothes someone else tailored for me.

Have you ever watched the truth
stand in the corner
While rumors get the microphone?
I have.
It hurts quieter than shouting
but deeper than fists.

I learned how silence feels
when it’s mistaken for weakness.
How dignity gets heavy
when you’re carrying it alone.

But hear me—
lies travel fast,
yeah,
but they don’t age well.
Truth limps,
but it arrives with receipts.

I’m still here.
Scarred, yes.
But not erased.
You can poison my name,
But you can’t live my life for me.

I walk forward
with my head high,
because one day
the same mouths that broke me
will choke on the truth.

And when that day comes,
I won’t scream.
I won’t explain.
My survival
will say everything.

© 2025 Gloria Penelope

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