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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 Quiet Predator #sadpoetry #poetrydaily #poem

Do not mistake my silence
for surrender.

Do not mistake my calm waters
for a shallow shore.

I have mastered the art
of appearing harmless,
of wearing stillness
like a finely tailored cloak.

The innocent face you see
is merely moonlight
resting upon a dark ocean.

Beautiful.

Quiet.

Deceptive.

Beneath it,
ancient currents move.

I have walked through fires
that would have reduced weaker souls
to ashes and forgotten names.

I have swallowed storms
without allowing thunder
to escape my lips.

The darkness taught me
how to survive.

Pain taught me
how to endure.

Betrayal taught me
how to see.

Now I observe
more than I speak.

I listen
more than I reveal.

For there is power
in being underestimated.

People often mistake kindness
for weakness.

Gentleness
for fragility.

Patience
for fear.

How little they know.

The serpent does not announce
the venom in its fangs.

The abyss does not advertise
its depth.

And the deadliest blade
is often hidden
inside the finest sheath.

I carry shadows
where others carry pride.

I carry restraint
where others carry rage.

Not because I cannot destroy,

but because I choose not to.

Yet if pushed far enough,
if cornered long enough,

the darkness I have chained
within the chambers of my soul

will awaken.

And mercy,

once abundant,

will become a stranger.

So judge me by my calm smile.

Believe I am harmless.

Believe I am innocent.

Many have made
that beautiful mistake.

Until they discovered

that beneath the quiet surface
of a wounded soul

lies something far more dangerous
than anger,

a spirit that has survived hell

and no longer fears it.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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