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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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Litany After the Storm #sadpoetry

Life broke open as thunder above my name,
skies splitting, truth roaring without mercy.
Each step I took was argued by the wind,
certainty torn into fragments mid-stride.

My mind walked in parallels
One version of me knelt in fear,
the other searched the dark for meaning.
They spoke in echoes,
and tears became the only language
both understood.

Misfortune poured without restraint,
a relentless baptism of loss and doubt.
It drowned my plans,
tested the architecture of my faith,
asked how much ruin a soul could house
and still remain.

I stood beneath the noise, undecided,
hands trembling, vision dim,
asking the heavens not for answers,
but for permission to endure.

Then the storm began to loosen its fists.
Not in mercy, but in timing.
Light seeped through the fractures,
and change arrived unnamed
a quiet strength learned
from standing too long in the rain.

In the aftermath, gratitude rose slowly.
Not for the breaking,
but for the breath that remained.
I lifted my eyes with a wounded reverence
and thanked God
for being the silence within the thunder,
for carrying me through the chaos,
and teaching my heart
How to listen once the sky grew still.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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