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...
They speak from tables heavy with bread,
Hands soft from never begging the day,
Calling cruelty order, calling silence sense,
Naming nonsense, the tongue of the poor.
From towers built on borrowed backs,
They rain down laws like cold, sharp stones,
Mistaking hunger for laziness,
And rags for a chosen skin.
Poor orphans wander with empty bowls of hope,
Stomachs singing the song of absence,
Eyes trained to search for mercy
In streets where mercy learned to hide.
Abuse wears gold and speaks with pride,
Its laughter loud, its conscience thin,
While small hands clutch the ache of night,
And learn too early how to endure.
For them, life is an open wound,
No salve, no shelter, no gentle hand,
Pain stitched into every morning,
And reopened by each setting sun.
Yet still they breathe. Still, they stand.
Bones carrying more courage than crowns,
Waiting for a world to remember
That hunger is a normal thing,
And being poor is not a sin.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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