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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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When Happiness walked first #poem #sadpoetry

Happiness used to walk ahead of me.
Not run—
just lead.
Quiet. Certain.
Like it knew the way.

Life was gentle then.
Peace didn’t have to be explained.
I breathed without checking my chest,
laughed without rehearsing it,
slept without bargaining with tomorrow.

I didn’t know
those days were teaching me
what I’d later miss.

Misery didn’t arrive screaming.
It never does.
It slipped in through familiarity,
wearing the face of “just a phase,”
moving the furniture of my life
one inch at a time
until nothing felt like home.

Now sadness walks beside me—
not ahead,
not behind—
close enough to remind me
that something was lost.

I carry memories like photographs
with the color fading.
Proof that I once lived softly.
Proof that peace knew my name.

And some nights,
that’s what hurts the most—
not that I’m hurting now,
But that I know
Exactly how good it used to be.


© 2025 Gloria Penelope

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