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Untouchable

 



 Untouchable

                                                   

 

I’ve got an army of angels.

Circling around me.

Waiting for me.

You can’t touch me.

Can’t do me any harm.

A silent voice is murmuring,

from beyond this realm.

Dwells in my memory,

is real and unwanting.

Doesn’t seek to be heard.

Should I call back and listen,

further examine my position,

Or wait until this numb

uncertainty wears off?

Living in a world where sight no longer matters.

Needing the sixth sense of perception or forever

struggle and get left behind.

Forget about fear and hunger.

Evolve past longing and want.

Surrender to the stillness of nothing.

Live and love in the apartment of my mind.

Allowing only wanted visitors,

and even them only at certain hours.

Let’s get started.

It’s a lifetime of healing.

Today’s as good as any other one.

Praying.

Something’s bound to touch me.

Spark my spirit.

I’ve been left so low.

But I’m not the only one.

There’s a world full of suffering.

A lifetime full of regret.

An ocean filled with tears.

From a distance I hear another

shrieking voice.

No.

I’m not the only one.

                                

                             

Robert Pegel

                                                            

Robert Pegel is a father and husband who lost his only son four years ago.  Calvin was 16 and died in his sleep of unknown causes.  Robert turned to writing poetry in an effort to make sense of the unimaginable. He hopes his writing might serve as inspiration or help others process their loss and suffering.  Robert graduated from Columbia University where he majored in English. 


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