I Hear Tsunami and Think of You


have you ever watched a video of a tsunami?
the water drawn back like a bow
and who it's aimed at kept secret.
then those monstrous waves,
crawling over the edge of the piers.
it sweeps through the streets,
no care for what it destroys.
it takes down everything that
stands between it and us.

And when i look at a tsunami,
my stomach drops.
it may just be a video
but i think of your hand holding mine
you'd squeeze it and say it will be alright.

it won't.
it's a tsunami.
thank you for the blind hope.
it's what i need in a time like this.

did you know when you built your house
on this land, seeming so stable,
that I too could be a tsunami?
consuming everything in my path,
furious as anything that stands in my way.
and no regard for what that thing is;
even when it's you.

maybe you should seek higher ground.

and when i see an earthquake,
that jack-in-the-box shudder
leveling buildings to dust,
livelihoods striped away.
karmic forces shake the earth.
this feels inevitable,
everything we know ending so abruptly.
sirens and screaming send chills down my back.

and yet, i know,
when i see that video,
if we were there
your arms would hold stronger than any
foundation ever could.

you remind me our building was made for this.
but i see us in the reflection on a jenga building beside us.
thanks for calming me down.
you're always good at that.

does anything even shake you?
I slam into you making those plates jealous
of the force with which I exert.
and when I pull away, leaving a trench, miles wide,
you stand unshaken.
and though I tear down everything around me,
you stare lovingly into my eyes.
do my furious movements not affect you?