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.