You don't see a tsunami coming.
I mean, most people expect to see a huge wave forming
over the horizion, something tall and towering,
gathering speed and even more height as it gets
closer to shore; a wave so tall it crashes three
blocks inland and takes the grocery store and Mr.
Potter's car out to sea. They stand at the end of
the dock, barely hearing the sirens, thinking it's
just a false alarm. Before they know it though, water
is trickling in at their toes, the beach is engulfed,
you can't see Main St., there's eight feet of water
on the ground, half the grocery store is torn
apart and Mr. Potter's car drags them inland as
they cling to it for dear life.
If they would have just listened to the sirens they
would have understood that something catastrophic
was coming their way. You don't see a tsunami coming.
You are not so tall that everything bad must tower
over you. There exists dark, there exists deep. And
deep will come for your feet and crawl up your body
before your head even realizes it's here. But the
people...the people who have been in one before
and survived know the signs. It's like an upward
blowing wind and ice water down your spine. That's
why they sound the alarms, that's why the blare the
sirens, but nobody listens, they don't listen because
they expect to see a big, blue wall in front of them,
they expect to see a tangable object, they expect to
see a face on every one of their problems...
You don't see a tsunami coming. Even if you cracked
the earth.