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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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A Heart Touched by Darkness #creativewriting #sadpoetry #freeverse

There was once a heart
that did not begin cruel.

It once carried softness,
once understood love, and 
once trembled at the sight of pain.
But darkness is patient.
It does not destroy everything at once.

It whispers first.

Quiet lies slipped gently into wounds.
Bitterness planted like seeds.
Anger fed slowly over time
until kindness began starving inside.

The heart changed quietly.

Smiles became masks.
Compassion became weakness.
Trust became something to exploit.
And the soul slowly learned,
how to feel powerful,
through the suffering of others.

Evil rarely arrives
wearing horns or flames.

Sometimes it hides
inside wounded pride,
inside greed,
Inside, jealousy left untreated,
inside pain that refused to heal
and instead learned how to spread itself.

The devilish heart grew colder with time.

It laughed at innocence.
Fed on control.
Turned love into manipulation
and truth into poison.
Even silence became dangerous around it.

Yet beneath all the darkness,
buried somewhere deep,
was the fragile memory
of who that heart once was.

Because no soul is born monstrous.
Some are simply consumed slowly
by shadows they chose to entertain
until the shadows finally felt like home.

And perhaps that is the tragedy of evil.

Not that darkness exists,
But sometimes people
Invite it in so often
They forget they were ever meant
to live in the light.

© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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