Poem: 'Unreachable to You' - Entry for the Ao-Pura Literature Club Project

Grandma was
a woman of few words,
always keeping her hands busy
with work.

She adored me so much,
and whenever I said I was hungry,
with her wrinkled hands,
she would make me a salted rice ball.

When I came home crying
after being bullied by friends,
she would wipe my tears
with her rough hands, saying,
'Cry all you want;
losing is winning, you know.'

'You are the heir to the XX family,
so you must grow up to be a fine man,'
she would say, as if it were her mantra.

In the mandarin orange orchard on the hill behind the house,
looking down at the ships sailing the sea,
she told me many stories from the past.
In the world of those stories,
yokai were truly alive,
and it felt like they might appear right before my eyes.

When I entered university in Tokyo,
the opportunities to see Grandma
decreased significantly.

Letters in her clumsy handwriting
would arrive from Grandma
from time to time.
I was too busy having fun,
and only replied
about once every three times.

Around the start of a new school term in spring,
a telegram arrived:
'GRANDMA COLLAPSED. COME HOME IMMEDIATELY.'

When I returned to my parents' home,
Grandma had a pale face,
breathing with her shoulders heaving,
and she gripped my hand tightly many times,
tears welling in her eyes.

'Grandma, you can't die!
Stay strong!!...'

I couldn't even repay
one ten-thousandth of what
Grandma had done for me.

I should have brought her to Tokyo
and taken her sightseeing
around the city.

I wanted to let her eat
her favorite 'botamochi'
even more.

No matter how much or how long I regret it,
it will no longer reach Grandma, who has ascended to heaven.

Every time I see mandarin oranges at the store,
I am reminded of Grandma's orchard,
and the window of my heart clouds over.

I have submitted this to Akira Yamane's Ao-Pura Literature Club project, 'Unreachable to You.'
Mr. Yamane, thank you for your time.

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