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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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Whispers Between Life and Shadow #poem

I lingered where the candle died,
A fleeting breath that should have sighed.
Hands once warm, now cold as stone,
Left me trembling, left me alone.

The clock froze when my heart gave out,
The world kept spinning, unaware of doubt.
They thought the darkness would bury me deep,
But I woke where the shadows never sleep.

Through walls I drift, a silent glare,
I see their eyes, but they don't see mine.
Whispers curl around their dreams,
Twisting laughter into silent screams.

I taste the fear they cannot flee,
A bitter draught of memory.
Each step I take behind their walls,
A ghost’s revenge in quiet calls.

I was undone in a fleeting night,
Yet now I am endless, veiled in fright.
No chains can bind me, no grave can hold,
A spirit’s fury cannot grow cold.

And though I wail without a tongue,
Their guilt is written, forever sung.
For I am the shadow they failed to see,
The echo of life that will not set free.

I haunt the places they thought were mine,
A restless mark through endless time.
Death may have taken the flesh I bore,
But my vengeance lives forevermore.


© 2025 Gloria Penelope

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