Hydrophobia (Poem)

Between October 1977 and February 1980, seven regional floods occur in Arizona and Phoenix is declared a disaster area three times. There are 18 fatalities and approximately $310 million in property damage.

November 1978: Floodwaters virtually destroy the community of Allenville near Buckeye and cause heavy damage in Holly Acres on the Gila River and Hound Dog Acres on the Agua Fria River. The Salt River has a peak flow of 140,000 cubic feet per second. Damage is estimated at $51.8 million.

February 13-25, 1980: Another flood occurs that has the greatest impact on the largest number of residents in Arizona history. 6 storms during 9 days move from the Pacific Ocean into southern California and Arizona. Daily rainfall quantities in Arizona are not extraordinary, but the total volume of runoff far exceeds the available reservoir capacity. The peak discharge of the Salt River is 170,000 cubic feet per second, which is greater than any previous flow since 1905. The flood causes $80 million in damage.

Hydrophobia

my small hand

slid like a fish

from my father's

grasp

I remember

darkness

then light

then the

awful sick

feeling of

water filling

my stomach

and lungs…

my father liked

to swim in the

flumes that carry

water in elevated

tubes above the

creosote &

mesquite trees

of the Arizona

desert

it was a

momentary

fumbling

a slipped knot

from the tether

of childhood

delusions

of safety &

permanence

the water was

a fiend -

smothering

me in the void

a wraith -

dragging

me down

into

suffocating

oblivion

but for all that,

it was the flood of

February 1980

that unleashed

hydrophobia

upon me

like a child

trampled

beneath

horses hooves

the ancient

instinctual

fear of drowning

from amniotic memories

to the cutting

of the cord

the ceaseless

spinning

of the thread

by the Moirae

from birth

to death

the fragile

twine of our

mortality

serrated

I remember

waking in the

darkness...

my father's

panicked

voice...

slipped

from my

bed and

stepped

into water

(my toys

and memories

swept away)

a wrong turn

on a darkened

road

water rushing into

the vehicle

my father fighting

the current

my mother

passing me

to my father

who waded in

again and pulled

my mother out

before the car

was swept away

by the torrent

of water

and we huddled

together on the bank
until dawn

cold and afraid
and we listened as the water
roared past

The man who

owned the zoo

animals

chimpanzees

lions

had to shoot

the poor beasts

rather than

let them drown

I wouldn't

know

that until

I was older

reminiscing

with my

father about

the man

we called

"The Zookeeper"

& how I used

to spend hours

looking into

those cages

the Zookeeper took

in old zoo

& circus

animals

I would hear

a lion roar

across the desert

at night

a wild jungle

of my imagination

swept away

by the hand

of God

After the flood

receded

and we left

the Red Cross

cots behind

and returned

home

I wouldn't take

a shower inside

(claustrophobic

nightmares)

my parents tried

God knows

they tried

but I screamed

and cried

myself hoarse

pale with panic

until my father

could take it

no more

and carried me

outside

with a bar of soap

and we showered

outside

in the hose

under the calm

blue

sky

with the wind

whistling

through the pine

tree

and the smell

of the orange

trees

and my dog

Major

bringing

rocks

for me

to throw

for him

…and the silence

of the lions

and the chimpanzees

and the other

families

of Hound Dog

Acres

who had not

returned

I looked

to my father

his frame

blocking

out the

sun

and I took

my place

in his shadow

and tried

to find

that elusive

path to

the way that

things used to

be

When you are

very young

and very

afraid -

something

in the mind

is broken

or becomes

brittle

and will break

with the 1,000

traumas to come

those stress fractures

become

the anxieties

the irrational

fears

the things

that hold us

back…

I made a separate

peace with the

ocean years

later

bodysurfing

in the storm

driven sea

and as I

tumbled

in the waves

I relaxed

I felt the wounds

that can never

heal

and I felt

the arthritic

ache of

injuries

long forgotten

I thought of

the water

and how I

had once

been afraid

I thought of

my childhood

home and how

it had been

submerged

like Atlantis

and washed

away

like the dusty

memories

of an old man

I thought of

things unspoken

of wrongs

not righted

of the ravages

and distance

of time

how we alight

upon each

others lives

from time

to time

expecting

things

to be the same

- as if time

itself

was something

we could control

looking past the

complexities

of experience

that move us

inexorably

towards

our becoming

and when the

wave had passed

I emerged

from the sea

and stared

across the

wide unknown

sky and imagined

the continents

stretching out beyond

the horizon

and I sat

in the sand

and I began

to feel better

Kingman Daily Miner - February 18, 1980