Coronal Wave

We wait, pretend our lives are normal

We are like rock hounds at the beach

We watch the tide recede

and recede

and recede

Until the sand is bare for miles

Then we pick up fish

Big perch like my grandfather used to catch

Wearing his waders and casting his thick, long pole

Into the surf over and over

He was fishing in 1964 at Copalis Beach, Washington

When the earthquake happened

The local police directed my grandmother

Up a hill to a school safe from the expected tsunami

I was in the Rambler with her

When she drove away from shelter

Willing to risk anything to find him

We wait for the expected tsunami

Some of us willing to risk anything

To maintain our normal lives

We can see the horizon of water

Can see the wall approaching

Yet do not feel as I imagine we should

What are the correct feelings for disaster

The wind arrives first, pushed in by the wave

And then the wave itself sweeps everyone inland

Tumbles us over and over for miles

We become flotsam bobbing 6’ apart

Each with our own leaky bit of survival

I remember how I could not feel when my mother died

Six years later, I feel more grief than then

Six year later, I still pull out my phone to call

Six years later, my dialog with her is robust

I am putting off the face to face

With the feelings that lie beneath

I am letting the wave wash me

That is all I can do