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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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Who gave birth to inequality? #poem #sadpoetry

Who gave birth to inequality in life?
Was it time, or the hands that shaped it wrong?
Who whispered poverty into the cradle,
And called it fate when it learned to cry?

Who taught the world to measure worth
By weight of gold instead of weight of heart?
Who built tall walls and named them progress,
While shadows slept beneath the stairs?

Who gave birth to hunger with full granaries,
To cold nights beside burning lights?
Who crowned power and blindfolded justice,
Then, I asked the poor why they still knelt.

Who taught disrespect to look normal,
To laugh at torn shoes and tired hands?
Who made the struggle a spectacle,
And suffering a crime of birth?

Life becomes unbearable
When dignity is rationed,
When hope is taxed,
When survival is mistaken for laziness.

The poor did not give birth to their pain—
It was delivered by silence,
Raised by greed,
And educated by indifference.

Yet still, in cracked voices and calloused palms,
A question survives the weight of days:
If humans created this imbalance,
Can humans not unmake it, too?


© 2025 Gloria Penelope

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