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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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What Decays

Rotten leaves cling to the ground,
once green, now bitter with time,
they crunch beneath honest footsteps,
forgotten by the tree that let them go.

Moulded bread sits in the dark,
softness turned sour,
blue veins spreading where warmth once lived,
a quiet warning no one heeds.

So is a heart that feeds on cruelty—
once capable of kindness,
now hardened by envy and spite,
sharing words that poison more than hunger.

A mean soul walks loudly,
believing sharp tongues are strength,
never noticing how the air recoils,
How doors close without sound.

Time, however, has patience.
Karma does not rush.
It works like rot—
slow, unseen, faithful to truth.

The leaves return to the soil,
The bread is thrown away,
and the heart that chose decay
must sit with what it became.

For nothing foul stays hidden forever;
What we spread, we step on later.
And in the end,
only what nourishes life
is allowed to remain.


© 2025 Gloria Penelope

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