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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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Wear Her Shoes #sadpoetry #freeverse #poetrydaily

Before you call her difficult,
wear her shoes.

Not the shoes she wears now,
not the polished ones,
not the ones she learned to walk in
after life had already taught her
how to hide the limp.

Wear the old ones.

The ones worn thin
by nights she never talks about.

Step into the life
she keeps behind her smile.

Walk through the morning
after a night of crying
and pretend your eyes do not hurt.

Get dressed.

Fix your hair.

Answer the phone
with a voice that sounds normal.

Tell everyone,
“I’m okay,”
while something inside you
is quietly begging
to be left alone.

Wear her shoes
when someone she loved
becomes someone she fears.

Walk the distance
between I trust you
and I should have known.

Feel how heavy a heart becomes
when it has carried forgiveness
longer than it should have.

You call her cold.

You never saw
how many times she reached for warmth
and came back burned.

You call her distant.

You never heard
the conversations she had with herself
at three in the morning,
trying to convince her heart
not to call someone
who had already stopped choosing her.

You call her proud.

You did not watch her
swallow her dignity
just to keep a relationship alive.

She asked for so little.

A truthful word.

A hand that stayed.

A love that did not make her
question her own worth.

And somehow
even that became too much.

So she learned silence.

Not because she had nothing to say,

but because she discovered
that some people listen
only when your pain
becomes convenient for them.

Wear her shoes
when she finally walks away.

Feel the strange weightlessness
of choosing yourself
after years of carrying
someone who never carried you.

Do not mistake her leaving
for cruelty.

Sometimes leaving
is the last language
a wounded person has left.

And if she no longer cries for you,
do not congratulate yourself
on making her strong.

You did not make her strong.

You simply stayed long enough
to teach her
that she had to become strong
without you.

There was a girl inside her once
who believed love
would feel like home.

She waited.

She forgave.

She made excuses
for people who never apologized.

She kept setting another place
at the table
for someone who had already left.

That girl is still inside her.

But she is tired.

So before you judge the woman
standing in front of you,

wear her shoes.

Walk every road
she refuses to describe.

Carry every goodbye
she disguised as acceptance.

Carry the nights
she survived without witnesses.

Carry the memories
she wishes had never happened.

Carry the love
she gave to people
who treated it like something cheap.

Then come back
and tell her she is too much.

Tell her she is difficult.

Tell her she is broken.

Tell her she is not enough.

But look into her eyes
when you say it.

Because somewhere behind them
is a graveyard
of everything she had to bury
just to keep living.

And perhaps then
you will understand,

she was never hard to love.

She was only tired
of being loved
like something disposable.

So wear her shoes.

Walk until they hurt.

Walk until you finally understand
that the woman you judged
was carrying an entire life
you were never strong enough
to imagine.

And when you take them off,

leave them gently
at her feet.

She has walked far enough.

Let her walk barefoot
into the life
she should have had
all along.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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