I haven’t written a poem in over a year. I think it’s been a year…I haven’t checked.

It’s weird. I won’t pretend it’s not. Poetry crept up on me, like other parts of my life, but I supposed it also slipped away.

It slipped away because I begged it to. There are only so many hours in the day, week, month–decade. Choosing wisely can make or break everything (me). Before I lumped it all together.

“They” did it like. Those. Them, the people who were’t me. Those who will never be.

I can’t be like that–like them.

It’s one malfunction after the other, until I found my footing. The “my” and “me” that fit my life. Less is more. Flexibility and patience. Slow and steady–all the good ones.

The prescription for me is:

  • read
  • write
  • journal
  • again

Multitasking works with dinner prep and homework, but not with words.

Is that how it is for you?


One thought on “Multi

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