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 –
*Speed-bump*
My friend loses a loved one.
The right time to substantiate
All those messages of hope
That you relentlessly preach
Where?
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:Â scheinbar
O.D. 