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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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Elegy of the Uncounted #sadpoetry

My heart walks with stones inside it
forged beneath the weight of nameless days.
Trauma writes its scripture in my chest,
inked in echoes, scars that speak
even when my mouth is silent.

Days stretch longer than nights.
hours drift like ash with nowhere to settle.
I wait in corridors of refusal,
Where doors learn my face
and still choose not to open.

They belittle me, with questions wrapped in smiles.
tongues sharpened into polite cruelty.
They weigh my life on scales of currency,
call me lacking,
as if worth were minted, not lived.

Poverty is my nickname where I stay,
I'm a quiet tenant feeding on restraint.
Hunger is my daily language, 
teaching my body humility
before the world teaches me about mercy.

Still, I breathe
not because life is kind,
but because something stubborn remains.
A small defiance, unbought and unbroken,
refusing to disappear.

My heart is heavy, yes,
But it still beats.
And in a world that keeps counting losses,
that alone
is an act of survival.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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