Category Archives: Death

when the sculptor dies, don’t we all?

The media is full of shocking reports- innocent people are tortured everyday. Some as political prisoners, some as victims of abuse in their own homes. A recent story about a sculptor who was tortured added to the millions of stories of people trapped in the wrong place at the wrong moment in history.This poem is not the voice of the sculptor who died, but the collective voice of the creative innocents lost in craft and confronted suddenly with the horror of reality disguised as power, prowess, some -ism…


There are a thousand women sleeping in stone

Their tears are trapped and voices muffled

Sometimes I hear them singing, not sirens like you think,

But sweet sad voices, not children, but human.


I take them out, the women, I carry them on my shoulders

And tell their stories to the people who like to listen

There are some people at the door.



For a moment the women wail

All my life  undone, nothing to be done,

I can make nothing right, fix nothing, patch up nothing.

My hands are flailing, drowning, my legs get in each others’ way.


I could be a puppet.

I look like a fool.




Hills falling off fingers, rivers vomiting seas,

Hair shaking loose the wind, eyes being saved

For the final cut.

Sculptors reversed,  the country in my room.


© neelthemuse,2012



Posted by on August 16, 2012 in Day to day, Death


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Last Dance

Have you ever wondered about the tapestry of images that a peaceful death can evoke? When I saw this picture

Sunday Picture Press

I thought about the sweetness of one’s last moments. It is a time of saturation when all of life’s characters do the last dance right before your eyes.


Once upon a time- it comes to me now in a rush

It isn’t so bad to be leaving. I know what you think.

Tears well up in your eyes when you see I have packed.

Journeys! what marks they make on memory. It isn’t that way at all

The sea swell in your throat is for you. Not me. I see that now, so clearly


As I lie down- there is a rush with the past, time ticks again and I see us dance

Yesterday, a song? replayed.  Thoughts suspended- the he and the she becoming

That elusive thing- the Self? The One? The only?


Enacts once more and in my mind two shadows kiss.

I will not share this joy with you- My mystery,  My going- see my pallor

In fear.  In wonder.


© neelthemuse, 2012



Posted by on February 14, 2012 in Death, Love, Prompts


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There’s a very sad headline going on right now about a baby who has been severely injured. The story is hard to believe like so many stories out there that speak of human ignorance and absence of compassion. Do pray for the child, a two year old abused and battered…..


Sometimes to plunge is the easier way.

The precipice is deep, here vultures hold sway,

Down there is no cavern but an earthly embrace.

Someone swallows worlds,  takes you in,

Runs deep and sees with roots,



You are so quiet, deciding still?

I am your mother ,come.

© neelthemuse, 2012

Send out a prayer


Posted by on January 30, 2012 in Children, Death


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