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Hawai’i Herald is publishing the following:

There’s a piece of unfinished business in my memory that I want to share with the 100th Infantry Battalion/442nd Regimental Combat Team veterans on behalf of a stranger in Germany.

When I visited Germany years ago, an old woman looked at me and began to weep. She reached out her hand to me. When I went to her, she took my hand, kissed it and began to speak in German, tears rolling down her face. Her grandson explained that I reminded her of the Hawai‘i soldiers who were so kind to her during World War II. Was I from Hawai‘i? Yes, I told her, and I know those soldiers.

For the first time in my life since Pearl Harbor, my face was greeted with tears of joy because of the 100th/442nd soldiers.

As a result, in my forthcoming poetry book, I included the following poem to honor the Japanese American soldiers who are still remembered and honored for their humanity while many of their families were in internment camps back home.

 

HAMBURG, GERMANY

In the Philippines,

World War II follows me into the night.

“Stay indoors after dark, people still remember

Japanese soldiers on Corregidor.”

 

My sixth-grade student writes in his journal

“December 7: I hate the Japs. I wish they were all dead.

My grandfather told me about them.”

 

In Hamburg, a woman, lined with age

Holds my hand and weeps to me in German.

I remind her of soldiers from Hawaii.

She has not forgotten their kindness long ago.

 

Our tears taste the same

In German and in English.

We are the only ones standing

In the aftermath of wars.

 

  • From: “Dangerous Woman: Poetry for the Ageless”

by Frances H. Kakugawa

 

My letter to the airline President reached customer service who emailed me by addressing me as Mr. Kakugawa. ( I didn’t correct them, thinking maybe males have more power) They sent me the form to fill out with my physician…it states “Hospitalized patient” so since I was not hospitalized, it doesn’t apply to me.

I asked for their rationale in charging us so much for changing reservations and twice that was ignored. I wrote a letter to Honolulu’s paper: Letters to the Editor and to one of their US senators, Mrs. Hirono,  to do some research in such a monopoly. The senator’s office said since my address is CA, they can’t respond. What???? Mrs. Hirono, you are a U.S. senator.

I was charged $538.38 for changing my flight back from Hawaii to Sacramento, due to medical reasons. I’m giving the commencement address at my old Alma Mater ( Pahoa High School) in mid May and need to return for some medical tests. One change = over $500.

President  Mark Dunkerly…this is as bad as dragging me down the aisle. How much more money do you want at our expense?

Saving Earth

To Homo Sapiens

 

I am your forest.

The sound of your ax

Silences my voice.

I am your…

I am…

I…

 

*****

I am Salmon.

I am Black Rhino.

I am Honey Bee.

Soon to be fossilized

Into your earth. Unless

 

You learn to hear

Hummingbird wings.

frances

Poets for Peace

When I was in high school, Russia and Communism were taboo subjects; they were feared into silence.  One day I read where poets were the most feared in Russia and my passion for poetry empowered me and I became less and less fearful as I kept on writing. I felt the more poetry I read and wrote, I weaker the enemy became.

Poets for Peace

Each time a poet

Puts pen to paper,

There is a sliver of hope

For Peace.

from my forth coming poetry book: Dangerous Woman….

Spring

To what purpose, April, do you return again?

Beauty is not enough.

You can no longer quiet me with the redness

Of little leaves opening stickily.

I know what I know.

The sun is hot on my neck as I observe

The spikes of the crocus.

The smell of the earth is good.

It is apparent that there is no death.

But what does that signify?

Not only under ground are the brains of men

Eaten by maggots.

Life in itself

Is nothing,

An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.

It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,

April

Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

front yard

Georgia O’Keefe

My host of flowers leaves me

breathless as your one.

lavenderpoppies