Urban Hermit-Babushka


Eve-sHe, oil on canvas, Stephanie GoldmanUrban Hermit-Babushka, Oil on Canvas, 48x30"

There she stood in the crucible of the vegetable market,
fire eyed and proud, saying I AM alive. Immediately, the following poem came into my mind and she was/is immortal.

Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953

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 Wmen at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.



Good Wmen, 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 Wmen 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 Wmen, 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 Mfather, 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.

https://m.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/do-not-go-gentle-good-night

1 comment:

Ruth Armitage said...

Love this, Stephanie!