Do You See Her?

When I see my parents fight, I wonder—

Is it because I’m not enough?

Why am I not successful yet?

Why can’t I take away their pain?

I see my mother crying, and it breaks me.

Sometimes, I get angry with God.

It’s okay if You don’t see me—

I know I’m not worthy.

But what about her?

She never did anything wrong.

She has prayed to You for fifty years,

With hands lifted, with tears falling,

Yet all You give her is more trials.

If You can’t see her efforts,

If You can’t hear her prayers,

Then maybe You are not here at all.

She carries every burden in silence,

She never complains, never asks for more.

Yet, hardship keeps finding her door.

Why?

If faith is a test, hasn’t she passed?

If kindness is rewarded, where is hers?

Or is it true—

That the ones who love the most

Are meant to suffer the most?