This poem was suggested for me to read and respond to. Thank you, whoever made the suggestion. It has given me much to think about.
“Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night”
By Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
From The Poems of Dylan Thomas, published by New Directions. Copyright © 1952, 1953 Dylan Thomas. Copyright © 1937, 1945, 1955, 1962, 1966, 1967 the Trustees for the Copyrights of Dylan Thomas. Copyright © 1938, 1939, 1943, 1946, 1971 New Directions Publishing Corp.
Web link: https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/do-not-go-gentle-good-night
“Darkness and Light; Night and Day”
By me
When I think of good nights, I must admit that I
Wish to find a gentle way to find myself so that
My head could find its resting place and my body,
Weak and worn,
Could be renewed and reborn.
Gentle is how I wish to go, if I must go into that good night.
But the light is dying. The night exists because the light
Is dying.
No night can be good when it only is because the light
Was extinguished.
Democracy dies in darkness.
The thief comes in the night.
The light is dying and if I care,
I should gather my might
And rage, rage, rage.
You take away our healthy bodies: RAGE.
You take away our children: RAGE.
You take away our mobility: RAGE.
You give us a yoke which is not easy,
And a burden which is not light.
RAGE.
A child born into a home of love finds
Food is hard to come by
And wishes the darkness would be here soon.
They were born into a world where the light
Is flickering. It has been stolen from them.
While I yearn for the good night,
And wish to go gently into it,
I cannot welcome it fully.
I love the light too much
To permit the darkness to have my favour.