Watching Over a Passing Cry, We Keep Walking

In the evening, on my way to the hospital.
In the middle of town, a little child was crying out at the top of their lungs: “No, no, nooo!”
Held in a parent’s arms, they were carried along, still wailing.
It’s a path everyone passes through. That scene we sometimes see leaves me with a feeling I can’t quite name.

A child with feelings laid bare; a parent desperate to rein them in…
I walk past, watching their small story from the corner of my eye.
The others passing by keep a straight face,
but it’s not that they don’t hear; I imagine they, too, are quietly keeping watch.

Within those gazes, we live out another day.
Raising our voices, enduring in silence—just as we are.
It left me quietly moved.

Namu Amida Butsu…

日本語版note：通りすがりの鳴き声を、見守りながらゆく道。