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