Tsunami
by Anna Ress
Mother is back now, thinner
quieter after 100 days in prison
in that country we cannot speak of.
We don't talk. Tsunamis are quiet at first:
not one big wave but many
small injustices, so chaotic
all the pressing all the weight
of the noise, like a stone
holding you under.
The words drowned between us
but I see them, sometimes
flooding her eyes with rheumy distraction
and settling again
quietly, barely noticeable
as she sets a glass of water on the table.
quieter after 100 days in prison
in that country we cannot speak of.
We don't talk. Tsunamis are quiet at first:
not one big wave but many
small injustices, so chaotic
all the pressing all the weight
of the noise, like a stone
holding you under.
The words drowned between us
but I see them, sometimes
flooding her eyes with rheumy distraction
and settling again
quietly, barely noticeable
as she sets a glass of water on the table.
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Author's Note
I wrote this about 12 years ago... and for some reason I decided to revise it now.
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Very moving, quietly unsettling. Great stuff.
Excellent work. I like the dangerous balance between quiet and noise.
"not one big wave but many
small injustices, so chaotic"
*
Beautiful.
Thank you for the kind words Jill, Beate and Nikki!
tsunamis, wave, drowned, flooding, water...
Very fine poem, Anna.
*
A lot of power in this Anna. Raises many questions and piques my curiosity - haunting metaphor - glad you dragged it out of mothballs for us to read. *
"Tsunamis are quiet at first:
not one big wave but many
small injustices,"...well done!