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.