Haka Mairu

I never met my great grandfather.

He died the year I was born,

But for years later, I would visit

His grave with my grandparents

To tend his memory with flowers,

Cleanse his tombstone with water

No one ever spoke of his habits,

Whether he liked beer with his dinner

Or what Japanese folk tales he told;

Whether he played Go with his son-in-law

Or went on fishing trips with him

To the grey mountains of Nevada.

But I knew him through his daughter

And her sad eyes as she trimmed

The carnations to grace his grave.

When my grandmother died

She was interred not far from both

Her parents. I would visit her

Grave with my daughters

To tend her memory with flowers,

Cleanse her tombstone with water.

I hope that I will get to know

My grandchildren so that they will

See that I do not like beer with my dinner,

That I wanted to learn how to play Go,

Would rather eat fish than go fishing.

Then they will come to that place

Where I rest and watch my daughters

Tend my memory with flowers;

Cleanse my tombstone with water.

May, 2013