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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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The Jester of My Ruins #poetryaddict #poetrydaily #sadpoetry

 They call me crazy.

I laugh and tell them,
"Of course I am,
sanity packed its bags years ago
and left no forwarding address."

They laugh with me.

That is the trick.

If I make the joke first,
no one notices
the cracks beneath the punchline.

My mind is a carnival at midnight,
lights flickering,
music playing out of tune,
ghosts riding the Ferris wheel
of old memories.

Yet I smile.

Because laughter is cheaper than therapy
and easier than explaining
why some nights feel
heavier than mountains.

I joke about my misfortunes.

I shake hands with disaster.

I invite heartbreak
to sit beside me at the bar
and buy it a drink.

"What now?" I ask.

And heartbreak laughs,
because it knows
I will turn it into a story.

That is how I survive.

Not with courage.

Not with strength.

But with absurdity.

With ridiculous thoughts
that dance through the darkness
wearing oversized shoes.

The world expects tears.

I hand it a grin instead.

The world expects collapse.

I perform a comedy routine
on the edge of the cliff.

Yet beneath every laugh
is a trembling silence.

A fragile thread
holding together a thousand storms.

People hear the joke.

They rarely hear the echo.

The echo that asks
what would happen
if I stopped laughing.

If the clown removed his paint.

If the jester abandoned the stage.

If the humor finally surrendered
to the sadness it was hired to guard.

Perhaps that is the secret
of every "crazy" soul.

We are not laughing
because life is funny.

We are laughing
because the alternative
might break us.

So I crack another joke.

The crowd laughs.

The darkness waits.

And somewhere between madness
and melancholy,

between the grin
and the grief,

I continue my performance,

a fool balancing on a tightrope
woven from humor and heartbreak,

praying the laughter lasts
long enough

to carry me
to tomorrow.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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