The Straw You Harvested
Let’s make a doll
Just like everyone else in the village.

But you hid it—
The part eaten by insects,
Deep inside the doll.

I volunteered
To become a scarecrow.
To protect the precious rice.

Rain doesn’t bother me—
I’m bound tighter than the others.
Birds don’t scare me—
I feel no pain; I’m just a doll.

In the blazing summer,
The other rice stalks rejoiced.
Insects swarmed,
Birds came to feast.

Before I knew it,
My shape was no longer my own.

And then I found it—
The place you had hidden.
Tears fell—
From both relief and hatred.

A traveler from another village passed by.
“You’re not a scarecrow anymore,” they said.
“Look down at your feet.”

My gnawed branches had split into two.
“The pattern on your chest is beautiful,” they said.
“Now, try making your own legs.”

And they left behind
Everything you had hidden—
Laid gently at my feet.

Just a few days after we met,
you began to change—
and that change was captivating.
You kept moving forward,
in the best possible direction.

Life is a marathon, with set courses.
Each of us runs on our own track.
But someone ahead of me,
shoved me off mine.
Though I wanted to return to my path,
I zigzagged between two lanes.

I only realized it after meeting you—
you were running on a completely different track.
But once you returned to your own,
you picked up incredible speed.

I was the one who walked away.
And I was the one left behind.

Hey, will you ever come someday?
Beyond the door where no one stands,
I want to fly away with
that fallen leaf hanging from the corner of the wall.
Your scent sways in the wind—
the gentle smell of summer in Tokyo.
I just wanted you to say, 'Wait for me a little.'
But maybe you'd say, 'You know how I feel, don't you? '

In the cracks of night,
the dream I whispered
doesn't have to reach anyone.
An invisible kindness
gently falls and wraps us softly.

Hey, will I forget someday?
This pain in my heart when I think of you.
Even if time quietly unravels,
something red overflows from the wounds I hurt.
They say that color is gold,
but no—it's a silvery hue tinged with yellow.
I remember the little things we talked about,
even the silent conversations in the time we didn't speak.

In the cracks of night,
a sudden little sneeze
feels like you're badmouthing me.
I've become your allergy.
These untouchable feelings
wander through the air,
and somehow return to me again.

You're surely in the arms of some monster now.
Just the thought of it makes my head feel like it's splitting.
But it's okay.
It's okay.
Because I can love you just as you are.

In the cracks of night,
the dream I whispered
doesn't have to reach anyone.
An invisible kindness
gently falls,
and softly wraps us again.