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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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Someone Else Holds the Light #lovepoem #poetrydaily

There was a time
when my name lived easily
on your lips,
when tomorrow seemed certain,
and we believed love alone
could outrun the small fractures
that slowly became fault lines.

I mourned us
long before we ended.

Not because I stopped loving,
but because I could feel
my heart becoming a place
where echoes lived
instead of answers.

Love is a curious thing.

It cannot survive
where honesty is rationed,
where kindness arrives only by chance,
where laughter forgets
how to visit.

It wilts in the shadow
of words left unsaid,
of promises bent by convenience,
of affection offered
only when it costs nothing.

So I laid down
what I could no longer carry.

And time,
that patient sculptor,
placed my heart
into different hands.

Hands that do not tighten
to prove they care,
but open.

A soul that knows
love is found in listening,
care in the ordinary,
truth in the difficult conversations,
and humor that never comes
at another's expense.

Now I laugh
without wondering
when silence will return.

Now I rest
without waiting
for the ground beneath me
to shift.

What you once had
was never yours to own.

It was mine to give.

And today,
that gift lives elsewhere...
with someone who waters
what they hope will grow,
who guards trust
as though it were sacred,
who understands that love
is not spoken once,
but practiced every day.

I do not write this
to make you grieve.

The tide has already carried us
to different shores.

I write because every ocean
returns what no longer belongs to it.

And what once rested
in your hands

has found its way
to someone who knows
that the deepest love
is never measured
by possession,

but by presence.

May you one day understand
that the greatest loss
is not the person who leaves,

it is failing to recognize
the treasure
while it was still
beside you.

© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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