Out Of Touch Poem by James Walter Orr

Yet can reach not the arms,
nor can touch yet one finger
nor can speak yet the tongue
of the feelings that linger;

for the eyes cannot see
nor can now the heart feel;
nor the kiss that we place
can yet serve as a seal;

and the new day that dawns
with the old sun that rises
with the same old agenda,
the same old surprises

that nourish the body
while starving the soul
and we live in a darkness
like that of a mole;

and the old sun that rose,
could not light the new dawn
and the old strength we banked
is not there to draw on.

The mistakes of the past
and mirage of the future
leaves a gash in the heart,
with no thread for a suture.