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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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Don't Ask Yourself Why #sadpoetry #naturepoetry #poetrydaily

Don't ask yourself why you
became a season
before your time.

The earth has never owed
its flowers an explanation.

Nature wanted it this way,
not because loss is beautiful,
but because permanence
would have silenced the wind.

Look at the trees.

They never decide
when to become less.
They simply awaken one morning
to the invisible hands of the sky
undoing them,
leaf by leaf,
until every green memory
learns the language of falling.

Still,
their roots remain
conversing with darkness
as though light
were only a rumor
that keeps its promises.

Perhaps that is what faith is:
to be emptied
without believing
you have ended.

The branches,
thin as unanswered prayers,
continue pointing upward
even after the birds
have mistaken them
for abandoned places.

There is a wisdom
the leaves never carry,
only the trunk can know:
that what departs
does not betray the tree;
it fulfills it.

So when the wind
writes its invisible scripture
across your life,
do not interrupt it
with the question why.

The forest has never asked
why winter arrives.

It stands,
unclothed before heaven,
knowing that every falling thing
is secretly
making room
for the impossible weight
of spring.

© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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