Terrorism, fervent and wild, rising behind the tallest buildings.
         Disaster forecast person to person.
         The tidal wave was the newest weapon
         in their innovative arsenal. They held up our fear
         in a towering wall of water looming and leering
         and looking menacing as only nature can. An impossible
         sight, the wave tense and still, not breaking yet approaching.
         It never changed its face,
         but we knew it was coming closer. Its white crest
         was like a national symbol. Its mighty power luminescent
         and vibrating. The panic set in us and never left.

         I am writing to you from final moments. The news
         and the horrible rumble kept me in tears. I was afraid of the sound
         and the shaking
         more than the hot rush of water into my lungs, more
         than the buildings snapping and collapsing. The
         possibilities for terror in this were as enormous
         as the wave itself. We knew of the bombs they
         abandoned. The chemical compounds.
         Gunfire a happier time. Now the shell-shocking roar
         of nature harnessed was constant torture, shotgunning through the city
         cloaked in the wave’s lengthening shadow.

         Then inside the roar the sound of destruction.
         It was coming closer. People were dying inside
         the tidal wave. Their houses and their bodies
         torn apart by the severity
         of water. Water the giver of life.
         The mother. Emotion. The tidal wave made the old
         world new again. Suffering was new again.
         The tumbling. It was not mysterious poison clouds, invisible
         vapors of radiation. Terror now
         was its own explanation. The terrorists now
         had finally, and after so many long years of struggle,
         beaten us down.

         Then I remembered my old love of the ocean,
         my sense of possibility. I was a boy
         once running from the water’s wet tongue. Triumph
         was theirs when that love left me.
         The ocean was now something else, Earth’s mantle
         swelling up through the crust, the planet turned inside out. I knew
         the water was coming
         closer. Everything then was suddenly too new. The tidal wave
         destroyed who I was. All I remembered was
         sitting once and listening from behind the dunes.
         The sound of the ocean
         turning its newspaper pages forever

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