Tag Archives: death

Mourning Strangers


I found an old CD the other day. It had fallen under the passenger seat of the car.

The front cover was missing. It was like one of those Now That’s What I call Music compilations, except with decent Indie music on it.

I played it and it took me right back to the 90s.

It got me thinking about how we mourn stars.

I’ve seen quite a few posts from cynics criticising people who eulogise about our recently departed idols because we never ‘knew’ them.

And they’re right.

I absolutely loved Bowie and Prince but I didn’t know them. It’s not a traditional kind of grieving that one would do for a loved one, though. It’s a grieving for all those times when your favourite singer was there for you. Through the good and the bad.

They punctuate the important times in our lives. When we were happiest, when we were broken-hearted.

We didn’t know them, but they knew us.

And that’s why we mourn them.

Tara Sparling writes about it much more eloquently than I, here.

Why this Sleeper track? Well, it was on the CD I found.

Let’s just say, it reminds me of a great big exclamation mark.

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Mother & Foetus – A Poem


Addendum.

Now, I know it’s not a sign of a good poem if you have to explain what it’s about before you read it. But I thought I’d better clarify a few things as a couple of people have asked me what it’s about.

I while back, I was pondering how long a foetus might survive in the womb after the death of its mother. (Obviously, it would depend on how the mother had met her grief.) But the poem is trying to portray what it might be like in the womb for the few minutes that it might survive. I had hoped that “I’m cold” would imply that the mother was no longer providing body heat for the baby, and that, coupled with the mother’s prostrate position and lack of movement, would be enough to be explicit. But obviously not.

MOTHER & FOETUS

© David Milligan-Croft

The foetus squirms,
Kicking out
An indignant foot,
At his unresponsive
Mother.

Mother!
She cares not
For me.

Lying
In this unbearable position,
With her great weight
Squishing me.

For so long now,

Unmoving.

I’m cold,

Mother?

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What happens when you die…


"Helloooooo?"

"Anybody there?"

(sigh)

"I'm hungry."

"Me too."

© DMC

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