Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at the close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Commentary
On Monday, January 21, my fifty-year-old brother-in-law died of cancer. He did not go gentle into that good night. I met Francisco when he was 12. During the last four years, I spent hundreds of hours talking with him either on the phone or in person. His wife divorced him and he seemed lost. The first year he took what my wife and I called his Buddha walk. He moved from the home of one sister to another. He would take small jobs to give him some money before he pulled up roots and moved on. When he finally arrived in our home, we almost did not recognize him. He was truly lost. During his two month stay with us, his spirit was restored and refreshed.
When we said goodbye, we knew he was off on a new adventure. He and a partner were going to open a restaurant. That adventure lasted ten months. On business trips to Texas over the next three years, I would have dinner with him and listen to the stories of his latest business venture.
For me, the way Francisco lived his life is like Dylan Thomas expressed in his poem — "do not go gentle into that good night." Francisco attacked life with a passion. He seized life by the throat and demanded that it give up its jewels. But life had its own ideas and financial success elluded him to the end. Francisco's greatest skill was his ability to sell anything to anyone. He would quit a job one day and within 14 days would have a new one. He was never afraid to walk up to a stranger and introduce himself. He had a knack for meeting people when he needed them.
In July, 2012, Francisco was diagnosed with stage four cancer in his kidney. The cancer had spread beyond the kidney and the doctors said surgery was out of the question. At the time, Francisco was in the midst of his latest business venture and he moved ahead full throttle. Not even cancer and the possibility of death were going to get in his way. Francisco chose not to go gentle into that good night. He chose instead to rage against the light — to battle until his last breath.
Creative Practice
What is your approach to life? Have you seized it by the throat? Or are you whimpering in a corner, afraid to look life in the eye? What is your approach to your art? Do you seize it by the throat and demand that it give up its secrets? Or do you sneak upon it in the middle of the night and hope to catch it sleeping?
This week seize life by the throat. Do something that you have been wanting to do but were afraid. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage against the light.
About the Poet
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| The writing shed of Dylan Thomas |
Dylan Thomas wrote the poem, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, about his father, David John Thomas. Born in Wales, Thomas had bronchitis and asthma in his childhood. He was 19 when he published several of his most famous poems, including And death shall have no dominion. His first book of poems was published when he was 20. Dylan's father died from pneumonia in December 1952. His sister died of liver cancer early in 1953. Dylan died on November 9, 1953 from pneumonia. He was in New York to read his poetry.
Poem
The poem, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, is a villanelle which is nineteen line poetic form that consists of 5 tercets and one quatrain. The poem has two refrains and two repeating rhymes. Here is the complete poem.
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 the 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, to late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see the 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.
Here is a reading of the poem with pictures of Dylan Thomas.
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