-----------I weave my grand                     mother's spirit to life--------
             when I paint with my             words what she dreamed
             in her life.  My grandmother's kimono sat in the dark never
            worn; so needs a     dusting--I lift it up      into this light to be
           seen, to be heard,      to be felt, fabric of          loving  heart
          dreams to be.  It's     not perfectly shaped   or tattered or torn,
         rather fermented       beyond her time  to      take form.  My
       Grandma loved  to        eat her white rice          she ate thirty
      seven million grains      of rice by the time         she reached her
      104-- Born on a             sugarcane plant'tion         on the coast of
     Oahu, a child in               the tropics then a       teen in Japan. Her
    family returned to          their roots to learn,    & grow, reenter the
   cultural force. She                discovered her              new talent as
                                            ------------------------------
                                  ­              K  I   M   O  N  O          
                                               ­     A R T I S T
                                            --------------------­----------
                                       Kikuyo  Yamamoto became
                                     liberated as an artist and then
                                     her life changed as her family
                                    demanded she leave her position
                                   and marry away to a Japanese man
                                    who lives in California (my Grand
                                    father).  The matchmaker said it
                                     would work really well....She
                                   endured life as an American farm
                                     wife, then life in Japanese intern-
                                    ment camps. Five  children, nine
                                    grandchildren...Dear Grandmother
                                     I know you had lots to surrender-
                                           I honor your life as mother,
                                           grandmother, and artist --I
                                          wove this poem in the form
                                       of  a kimono for you  May your
                                         spirit rest in peace. I love you.

With folded arms on my windowsill,
I gaze at a starlit sky so still.
Amidst the awe of wishful wonder,
A question, there, I pose and ponder:
If the autumn moon that gives such light
were the eye of He who gave me sight,
would He not see a sheep asleep
while children die and mother's weep?
And if glimmering stars were angel bands
that laid to waste a wasteful man,
would I not pray that they be blind
to those I've harmed or left behind?

With folded arms on my windowsill,
I saw a tree in the farmer's field
The winter winds had stripped the oak
And, as I believed, I thought and spoke:
If winter winds, in all their might,
lay bare the oaks and fold their height,
then gone would be the leaves of deeds
that hide my thoughts of lust and greed.
And if trees that grow and bear their fruit
were saints that live and speak the truth,
then I would be a withered tree
with bitter fruit and wilted leaves.

I am afraid to go all in
Although I love you so much
Proud I have resisted succumbing
Hide my heart away from your touch

Locked inside a dark cool place
I will be kind but cautious too
Special for a little bit but not for long
Warm and soft glow soon will fall through

You make a perfect Prince Charming
Afraid it's all a game
A chance is the gift I'm giving you
Waiting for proof you're no longer the same

Sincerely I pledge my love to you
We are fated to break somewhere
Wanting to show you the depth of these feelings
With more than words sculpted from air

Fear forms a fence between us
Distance a familiar friend
Passion puts me in a prison cell
Losing power to pain and the impending end

Let me walk apart from love
Fantasies weaken away by the hour
Lets part ways while our love is still sweet
Rather than watch it slowly sour

Bitter tasting cynicism lingers from the past
Allow me to surrender to fear
Escape the possibility of getting bit or burned
Before goodbye has a chance to get near

Slight wondering for an instant,
like a soft surrender,
strayed into her existence
like a burning embrace.

When words are not enough
When silence is a sea of peace
And my highest self is home to stay
And your kisses can only hint
At the depth of this union
I know this mantra too well
A kiss that tastes of that silent sea
And lingers for infinity
When words are not enough
I bow.
I bow.

stones in the ocean -

jagged steps of sediment,

worn smooth by the waves.