hidden words

A father's pain is hidden in a frown.

Greater than the pain is the silence of the children

I can't see through life and death, but I'm used to being sick for a long time.

Even the strongest of men have become contented

He puts down the pain by pretending to sleep.

He heard everything we said.

There were no more tirades, no more scoldings

No more scolding and reprimanding. Fatherly authority faded away.

Sometimes I wanted to hold his hand and say something.

But realized that manners were more important than feelings.

The rest of the afternoon came quietly.

And the room snored reassuringly.

I've always wondered how my mother, next to me, has slept all these years.

I've wanted to know how my mother slept next to me all these years, but I've never asked.