The Pull By Sam Pierstorff – MJC English Professor, Ninja Poet and the Official Poet Laureate of ModestoView
I spent the summer I was seven in our neighbor’s swimming pool, mostly underwater so anyone who looked down on me was blurred— their clothing, fuzzy rainbows, faces stretched like Silly Putty.
Nearly 30 years have past, and I am back in the pool, this time learning lessons my divorced parents never taught me,
like how to stay on top of the water when your ankles become anvils that want to drag you down, or how your body must rotate like a pig on a spit,
but still, as your body burns, you must reach as far as you can with every stroke.
Watch now as my hand enters the water the same way it slides into the sleeve of a collared shirt, then the pull.
The most important move happens underwater where no one can see.
Your wrist bends toward the bottom of the pool. Your arm is an oar pushing the water back before your hand snaps past the surface and circles back in.
And now, as I climb onto the starting block and think about my next race,
I remember the pull— how hard we must always push back if we want to move forward.
