Do Not Go Gentle

Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night
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]


Long ago I made peace with my own level of comfort with darkness. It's not that I like nor prefer the dark to the light, but over time I found, through life experience -- including joblessness, disease, and relational discord -- that I was not scared by the darkness. I discovered something within my interior unwilling to make a "whatever-it-takes-to-get-rid-of-darkness" deal to provide temporary relief. I've learned a lot about God, myself, and life in the darkness. I seldom enjoy it, but I have made some sort of friendship with it, awkward as it may be.

So I was drawn this week to the Dylan Thomas poem, "Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night." I'm not so very familiar with Thomas nor his poetry. It is easy enough to find basic information about him, his life, and his poetry online. He lived a rugged, tumultuous life from what I have read, and apparently drank himself to death, literally. This poem references his father's pending death, while also likely including a good bit of autobiography.

Some commentaries on the poem propose that Thomas advocates a "kicking and screaming" approach to darkness and death, a kind of literal rage. Knowing something of his life, Thomas may indeed suggest a "raging-against" stance toward life's end.

I wonder, however, if rage is the wisest, most life-giving approach to the darkness. Darkness comes to each of us. Death will claim all of us. Rather, "rage" may more richly suggest a stance which does not lie down before the darkness, a posture in which even the darkness does not shut down abundant life. Perhaps the poem's wisdom moves us toward a way of continuing onward in creative living, even when life is shrouded in tumult. Do not go gentle, keep exploring, do not give up your own true self, do not stop creating, move toward your next discovery . . .