One morning, and I just can’t focus.
Twenty minutes of meditation?
More like two hundred fidgets,
Two million to-do-list additions,
and tech co-dependence
demanding my attention.
A reprimand so rigid
in just three seconds.
As if something so mystic
like following my breath
Requires perfect attendance.
Distraction comes in many forms.
I long for it within.
Every pattern, a reconnection.
A welcome misdirection.
If I’ve become distracted,
Lost in thought, feelings active,
That can’t be accurate.
Because I know where I am.
I’m right here: distracted.