Jill Yamasawa
Back to Kona
Sam and I are planning your service
at Daifukuji in Honalo next to Teshima’s,
the same one which held the memorial
for Grandma Jean. The one with the famous
orchid shows, taiko drummers, and bon
dances. The temple is a bit small so
I’m worried it won’t hold all your friends and Hōnaunau
family. It’ll be in August so no mandarins, but
maybe lychee from Uncle Mel’s or Uncle Roy’s
farm to place on the long tables, which the aunties
will cover with butcher paper. Sam said he’d make a salsa if
get tomatoes. Maybe someone should read one
of your poems in the same joking way you’d read
them as you ate red pistachios on the tailgate
of your old Jeep. You were so howzit brah
in your rubber work boots, hammahjang jeans,
an dose puka t-shirts from your friend who
worked at that one Hollywood studio.
No one wen ask why you was
wearing one Eraser t-shirt from 1996?
Nah cause everyone knew you was jus li dat.
Growing up, I thought you were famous cause
strangers would ask me, are you Wilfred’s
daughter? You were always volunteering to be
on the clean up crew, to donate your coffee or
art glass. You would go to kumiai meetings, grave
cleanings, support your local reps, promote
Young Farmers till everyone had white hair.
Most people accept things,
in the end. Not you, so stubborn,
always had to consider the other point of view.
Except the time you ran over my kitten, Tinsel,
and told me it was the cat’s fault because
she was hiding in your tire well.
Mom feels guilty that we couldn’t bring
you home to Kona, to your coffee trees,
to your pride. Logistically the Queen’s doctors said
it was impossible. But you begged them until
they said you could, just not right now.
This calmed you for a few weeks. I told you
to close your eyes and imagine
you’re there with the sun on your face,
the bees’ hum, and the webs of the silent crab spiders.
Just like you’re home, Dad, I said.
You can smell that it rained last night.
Do you see it, the farm’s all red and green.
But you didn’t want to imagine. You shook your head.
No, you insisted, please, I want to go back to Kona.
Jill Yamasawa is a poet, National Board Certified Teacher, and a Hope Street Group Hawaiʻi State Teacher Fellow. Jill has served as a special education, English as a second language, and language arts teacher, a curriculum coordinator and an assistant principal. She currently teaches college and career readiness skills. Her present focus is building community in her classes. She enjoys third and fourth gen Kpop, gardening, and painting.
Photo by staff