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...
He calls it love,
but it falls in pieces,
not a feast,
just crumbs scattered at her feet.
She gathers them in silence,
hoping one day
they will become something whole,
something warm,
something real.
But his hands are empty
of truth.
His smile,
a mask polished for display,
soft words rehearsed
like lines in a play
He never meant to live.
Behind her back,
his absence speaks louder,
his presence thinner
than the promises he makes.
He moves like he owns her,
like her heart is a place
he conquered,
not a gift he was given.
And still he says,
“I love you,”
as if the words alone
can cover the distance
between what he shows
and what he is.
What a quiet kind of cruelty,
to offer illusion
and call it devotion.
But she,
she is not made of fragments.
She is not meant
to survive on less,
to shrink herself
into the shape of his half-love.
There is a truth waiting for her,
somewhere beyond his shadow,
a love that does not pretend,
does not disappear,
does not make her question
her own worth.
Because she is not nothing.
And love,
real love,
does not leave you
hungry.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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