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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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What He Called "Love" #sadpoetry #heartbreak #freeverse

He named it love,
Yet it came hollow,
a vow without a body,
a season that refused to bloom.

No flowers bent toward her name,
no time carved deliberately,
no shared sunlit hours
where footsteps learn from each other.
He kept her hidden in the margins,
visited only when he wanted to.

His tenderness was selective
a door he opened only inward.
He drank from her presence,
fed on her patience,
mistook her silence for consent,
her loyalty for an endless supply.

Love, in his hands, was free access to her.
not devotion, no witness.
He touched her life
without ever standing in it.

But her eyes learned the truth of him:
How affection can imitate warmth
while harboring cold intent,
Cruelty sometimes wears kindness
like a borrowed coat.

So she left quietly,
not from weakness,
but from clarity.
She folded her love back into herself,
rescued it from misuse,
and carried it forward, unbroken.

He never heard the sound of her leaving,
only the absence where she once stood.
And in that silence,
His love was finally named
for what it was:
too small to keep her.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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