Robert Pegel
Quiet, silent resignation harnessed
as I go about my day.
Numb to my surroundings.
Whatever will be
from now on will be.
I can’t stop the rain
or the forthcoming deluge.
Will never match that feeling of bliss again.
Just an actor playing my part
in a script I didn’t write.
Mere pawns all of us,
not allowed to see the king.
Remember every detail of that day.
Always will dwell on an event
that changes you forever.
Now there is a before and after.
Feel like I am a conduit for energy,
and sometimes I have none to generate.
Going through the motions
pushing the time and day away.
Always listening and hoping
to respect another’s point of view
whether influenced by family, money,
or just their unabashed opinion.
But sometimes it’s hard to care.
Life is seen differently now.
More concerned with the other side.
Less with the ground we walk upon.
More than anything we’ve ever witnessed here.
It’s kind of strange.
Home is always recognized.
And we are surely not home.
Not yet.
Still some like to think every moment matters
in this blink of an eye.
Hearing a voice reach me now,
real or imagined.
Can’t believe they caught me while I was sleeping.
It’s not fair but it’s okay.
You’re going to love it over here.
Can’t wait to show you around.
You’ll never want to go back again.
This isn’t dying.
This is beyond living.
Robert Pegel writes about the fragility of life and the search for transformation. Robert holds a BA in English from Columbia. He is a Best of the Net nominee. Robert has been published in Door is a Jar, The Corvus Review, Green Ink Poetry, The Galway Review, The Hooghly Review and others. Robert lives in Andover, NJ, USA with his wife, Zulma.Â