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Usually in control

The boss of my own words

Expression has never been

A weak-point

Quite the contrary;

Making words dance

Is an art I take pride in

Not really difficult to –


My friend loses a loved one.

The right time to substantiate

All those messages of hope

That you relentlessly preach


Where are those precious words now?

Where is your supposed control

To comfort a loved one?

Powerless in the face of death

Standing still, gone mute,

An art chiseled over the course

Of five years, disintegrated

The word plate scrubbed clean.

That’s when I realized

That sometimes

The only thing anyone can do

Is give someone a hug.

– Original-Dante ©2016

Photograph by: scheinbar


5 thoughts on “Loss.

    forgottenmeadows said:
    March 11, 2016 at 4:30 AM

    beautifully said ❤

      Original-Dante responded:
      March 11, 2016 at 2:42 PM

      Thank you Neha 🙂 Happy weekend!

        forgottenmeadows said:
        March 11, 2016 at 3:09 PM

        Happy Weekend! (it’s still friday morning here but counting down!)

    nosyjosie said:
    March 13, 2016 at 10:38 PM

    Wow this was magnificent and so human. “An art chiseled over the course of five years, disintegrated. The word plate scrubbed clean.” -That’s so poetic. We have so many words, as writers but yet they all can be deemed useless when compared to something as impact full as a hug.

      Original-Dante responded:
      March 14, 2016 at 1:52 PM

      So true, wordplay and reason through rhythm wont comfort someone in moarning, actions do indeed speak louder than words at times…and I thank you Jo, i’m glad you liked it 😀

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