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