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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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You Outran Their Snare #freeverse #sadpoetry #poem

They wove a latticework of malice
In chambers thick with perfumed spite,
Where whispers curdled into verdicts
And envy masqueraded as right.

In clandestine communion, they drafted
The obituary of your ascent,
Architects of quiet ruin,
Surveyors of your firmament.

They named you dust.
They pressed you low beneath their heels,
As though your pulse was an  inconvenience,
As though your breath required repeal.

They never glimpsed the ore within you,
The gold concealed in earthen guise;
They saw but soil upon your garments,
Not constellations in your eyes.

“Burden,” they murmured.
A syllable sharpened like winter steel.
Unmindful of the hand you offered,
Open, unarmored, real.

You were the improbable mercy,
The bridge flung over their abyss,
The lantern held in tempests
When no other dared such a risk.

And still they schemed to shear your radiance,
To confiscate your sovereign flame,
To cast you to pavements of derision,
An unnamed hunger without claim.

They longed to watch you wither.
A tattered psalm in a faithless street,
Palms upturned to indifferent heavens,
Dignity was shattered at their feet.

But destiny is not so perishable,
Nor light so easily undone.
The snare recoiled upon its makers;
The arrow curved, the circle spun.

For malice is a self-consuming fire,
A pyre built by its own hand.
And those who quarry another’s future
Unwittingly unroof their land.

You walked unscathed from their contrivance,
Your aura fierce, your spirit whole.
While life, impartial and unsparing,
Delivered harvest to their role.

Thus, you remain.
Not dust, not burden, not undone.
But a testament forged in shadow,
A brighter sovereignty is won.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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