Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Dylan Thomas's life affirming poem, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, speaks powerfully to us about living life to its fullest, never surrendering to affliction, and in old age to "Rage, rage, against the dying of the light."

The poem is thought to have been inspired by Thomas's father going blind in his old age, and Thomas's own battles against depression and alcoholism. Yet despite his own failures and infirmities, Thomas urges us to burn with passion until we draw our last breath -- never, ever give up.

For me, the poem has always been an inspiration to fight passionately for the things about which I feel passionately, no matter how hopeless the cause may seem at the time. And at this time, things do feel hopeless.

We felt passionately about our nation, our republic, our democracy -- an America of which, despite its blemishes, we could be proud. Donald Tump's election was a body blow to that pride. It left us disillusioned, wounded.

How could we overcome the onslaught of xenophobia, racism, bigotry, and divisiveness that followed Trump into the White House?

How could we overcome the onslaught by Trump and his cabinet picks on those government policies and institutions that we value; health care, women's rights, caring for the underprivileged, appreciating the arts, valuing science, valuing the truth, being good stewards of our fragile Earth?

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 I am heartened by the self-affirming things I see happening in our community of believers in truth and social justice, and beauty, and love. Whether its an older couple walking hand-in-hand in the March for Science, or a 14 year-old boy speaking openly about his sexuality in order to make life a little easier for others struggling with the issue, or a 50+ year-old man wearing a pink knit "pussyhat" and standing for hours at a table asking for people to sign a pledge to support TRUTH (I saw you, Carl).

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.

So, we must keep marching, writing, talking railing, raging, running, loving, burning with passion for all that we believe in. Never, ever give up.

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.