STEPS

A wall of bamboo forest
where the trail head was

still leads to a cluster of stone
tombs the size of dog houses

next to cherry name markers
sunk long before the big war
and, so bright light

does not startle the dead, in
near-perfect shade.

The names are faded, wood

rotted, green bamboo
rising up

in different angles
through the floors, lifting
ash and bone flakes.

Nobody to hack bamboo, to
paint fresh kanji.
No children asking

why am I alive?