Go gentle with the one you love
as the moon, which does not drive
the tides but enthralls the space between.
Go gentle with your children
as the bow, which does not force
the arrow but yields to the archer’s course.
Go gentle with the prodigal
as the sun, which does not withhold
its warmth but embraces all the earth.
Go gentle with your past
as the oyster, which does not purge
the wound but covers it with beauty.
Go gentle with your tongue
as the winter plum, which does not shame
the season but finds it flowering.
Go gentle with your heart
as the tea leaf, which does not release
its treasure to demanding hands.
Go gentle with your dreams
as the spring rains, which do not smother
the seed but soften unyielding ground.
Go gentle with the earth
as the forest, which does not only drink
of her but graces her with splendor.
Go gentle with your life
as the lily, which does not cling
to the field but faces the twilight free.
And yes, in the end, go gentle
into that good night, as the One who is
both light and night goes gentle with you.
~s. rochelle
This poem took its roots from Dylan Thomas’s poem, “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” but branched in a different direction. This is in no way a criticism of his poem. I love his poem and always will for its stubborn passion and fierce love of life. There are times to go gentle, and there are times to “rage against the dying of the light” and I hope I’m always granted the wisdom to know the difference.
