So I haven't had any time to really write anything in about a month because of a culmination of things and rather than leave it this way for a couple more weeks, I decided to give you one of my favorite poems. It is my favorite, because it means a lot to me, and it means a lot to me because of one principle my father has instilled in me.
This principle: my ancestors on his side of the family are largely jewish, and all but one of them were killed in the holocaust. Not exactly something you think someone would be ashamed of, but my dad is. His reason? Not a single one of his ancestors fought back when they had to wear the yellow stars, when they were put into the ghetto's, when they were carted away on trains and taken to their deaths. Only the Warsaw jews uprose at the very, very end of the holocaust and I think more than anything, my dad wishes his ancestors had not stayed silent. Death is a common thread among everyone, but to just let yourself die by the hands of another much before your time is a concept which really saddens him. It saddens me too. So here's the poem:
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.
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