Push and Pull
Like a pebble caught inside a wave
tumbling a thousand times
before resting on sand
then a thousand more
as water drawing back again
folds it,
worn just a little smoother,
into its bosom.
I crouch on the floor
of the apartment
my mother left behind
with this push and pull
coursing in my veins.
No chair left
for me to retreat
from the tumbling,
only piles of letters,
souvenirs, photos
recording childhood birthdays,
my science fair medal,
our immigration day.
What to keep,
what to let go.
Every consideration
caught in the stretch between the two
as I push these memories from
one pile to another
and often without purpose
back again.
I too wear a little smoother.
First published in Voice of Eve March 11, 2019