Do Not go Gentle into That Good Night: A Call to Keep Going

L.P Madera

Written by Welsh poet Dylan Thomas in 1947, the poem ‘Do not go gentle into that good night carries many meanings. Originally written for his dying father, the poem is a plea for him to keep fighting and an expression of anger and frustration at what is happening to him.

Dylan Thomas passed away November 9, 1953 at the age of 39 years. He contracted pneumonia after a night of heavy drinking. One can infer not only by the poem but by the drinking and early death that the loss of his father surely had a detrimental impact on his life. His legacy, however, lives on through his poetry much like many past and present writers.

The use of repetition emphasizes his plea and each line demonstrates a combination of regret, dispair, and helplessness people feel toward their end.

The first line denotes the need for one to rebel against old age-not to let it consume you, but to live every day to its fullest.

This line suggests that even though one is old and they know their time is near and that it’s a natural thing they should accept, they still fight against it because they might have one last thing to say. They regret the things they didn’t say and the many things that will remain unsaid after.

Good men grieve at all the good deeds they could still do if they only had more time on this Earth so they press on to continue their good deeds as long as they can. When their time is finally up, they are sad and full of regret at the good things that were left undone.

Individuals who lived wild, free, and reckless want to continue to do so and when their untimely end is near, they do not want to go. They want to continue to live as wild and free and want to live and explore forever. They don’t want it to end.

People who know they’re dying or on death’s doorstep still fight against it even though they know it’s inevitable. Perhaps, this line suggests an almost natural rebellious instinct.

His final, most heartfelt plea for his father to keep fighting and live is illustrated in the final line as he is talking to him on his deathbed. He is filled with strong emotions tying into the point of the poem which is a long drawn out plea to keep fighting. He’s giving many good examples throughout of how all these other people push through and he just wants his father to pull through in the same way.

Throughout the years, this poem has been used as a source of inspiration for many groups. It was even featured in the 2014 hit film Interstellar to which it was the fuel for the astronauts to not give up on their mission and keep trudging onward for a better future for humanity which would have been left to die on an uninhabitable planet.

Media is not the only place this work of writing has been used as a catalyst of motivation. Today, many individuals have used it to advocate against despair or decline. Many motivational influencers on social media have chosen this poem to use as a background for their videos. Whether the videos were for workout motivation, or daily life motivation in general, the poem and its words still create a powerful effect.

Seventy years after the wintery night it was debuted, the poem is still a popular source of inspiration for many no matter what they are struggling with. It is a wonderful poem that should be celebrated and cherished. While it was once the outlet of a poet releasing the grief of his dying father the only way he knew how, it can be used as a means of inspiration no matter what the situation is.

Things may seem rough in the world we live in today. America is experiencing a major affordability and housing crisis, there has been and still is a war with Ukraine, and we have suffered many a pandemic and are working out ways to combat any future pandemics. However, with all of these things, humanity remains tough.

Too many articles in the news share nothing but negativity. This may lead some into a deep pit of despair and fear. Of course, when you hear nothing but bad news all day every day it tends to drop the vibe significantly. However, there is hope. Like, General Leia says in The Force Awakens; “Hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you see it, you’ll never make it through the night.”

There are many wonderful things in this world to keep fighting for and more good news in the world than what’s being portrayed on media. The best advice? Go out there and explore for yourselves rather than let yourselves be trapped by the magic box of pessimism. Do not go gentle into that good night and always believe good things are right around the corner. Even if it doesn’t seem like it right now.

WATERBEAR WEEKLY

Short Stories in Review:

Fire alarms, Sprinklers, and a flooded laboratory…

On the run on an uncharted planet…

coming soon!!!

Two days left until the release of ‘Field of Fright’:

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Edge of Nowhere

L.P. Madera

Prologue

The desert sun shone bright and unforgiving as I dashed through the alleyways of the decrepit town. With my pursuers still on my trail, I streaked past rusted old shacks. Each step sunk my feet deeper into the sand, making my feet and legs feel like bricks. My lungs burned as I tried to fill them with what little oxygen the thin atmosphere of this planet has. Still, I could not stop moving, not with what was coming after me. Lucky for me, I have been a runner and backpacker so I have more stamina than them.

                As I turn my head back to see if they were still behind me, my foot knocked against a boulder. My ankle rolled to the side, sending me down to the hot sand with a hard thud. I put my hands out to stop the fall and scraped the flesh on the jagged rocks below before smacking my face into the ground. I scuttled to my feet, hair sticking to my eyes and face from the sweat. Sand clinging to my arms, legs, and hands, getting into my now searing cuts, I moved to start running again.

                That’s when I was stopped by a stabbing pain in my ankle. I wanted to drop to the ground to inspect it but the sound of footsteps and yelling took my attention away from the pain. I turned my head to see the backside of the crudely built general store and saw shadows approaching from around the corner. I gritted my teeth and hobbled as fast as I could. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long. My ankle seared with pain and my breathing was now a gasping. My legs felt as if they were locked up with vice grips. Out of my peripheral, I saw a small shack. I ducked into it as they rounded the corner.

                As I closed the door, my eyes were shrouded in a blanket of darkness. There was an odd metallic smell, but I ignored it. I peered through a tiny crack in the door and saw the men creeping.

                “where’d she go?” the big burly one mumbled to his comrade. His hair was matted and unwashed. His teeth flashed an ugly brown yellow from tobacco and poor hygiene.

                I watched as they stopped at the front of the shack. The smaller one motioned inside to big burly and they both grinned. They advanced forward and my body went cold as my heart began to pound in my ears. I looked around for a dark nook to hide in and didn’t see any. I backed away from the door as quiet as I could, hoping something would draw their attention away, or to find a weapon to defend myself. After about ten steps,, I backed into something. Whatever it was, it was solid and squishy. The metallic smell was stronger here.

I felt the object swing and move. It must’ve Dangled from the ceiling of the shack. I put my hand behind my back to feel the object. It was squishy but rigid. And cold. There was a wetness to it too. I brought my hand back up to see and my body went numb when I squinted to see the dark, sticky liquid. I slowly turned around to see what it was and slapped my clean hand to my mouth to stifle a scream. My heart raced and my blood went cold as I came face to face with a skinned corpse dangling from the ceiling. Not just this one, there were at least twenty of them. All cold, motionless, sending a series of shivers down my spine.

Then, I heard a weak gasp in the far corner.

“help-pp m..me” it groaned.

It was Jones, our pilot. He was dangled from the ceiling by bound wrists. A bucket lay beneath him. He was unclothed and covered in gashes and grime.

“h-h-help-p” he moaned again.

I made my way over to where he was and was astonished when I attempted to cut him down to see an IV and tube trailing from his arms to a blood bag on a pole to his right. His skin was grey and he struggled to keep his eyes open as his strangled breaths slowed.

“its me” I whispered

“Sophia?”

“yes” I replied.

His eyes lit up and he began to squirm.

“No, you have to get out of here before they get you too.” He said loudly as he began to struggle.

“sh..sh” I shushed him desperately “not without you, I’m getting you out of here too”

“no..n..noo” he said “get out of here go!”

“sh-sh” I looked around to see if anyone heard him. “ they might hear us” I pleaded.

But it was too late the door to the shack busted open with a bang and there stood the most ugly, horrifying creatures I’d ever laid my eyes on.

Chapter One

They say no one can hear a scream in space but what do they know? It’s all I hear day in and day out on this destitute waste-bucket barreling through the big empty at warp speeds. I hear them when I’m asleep, awake, when I do maintenance outside the ship. They’re always with me, and I never forget the faces.

Fifteen years in the USPD’s legionnaire squad will do that to a person. I’ve seen some shit and experienced things that would make a tough person break. Out of all the bloodshed, nothing compares to the VanFossen case. Amidst all the screaming and nightmares, it’s this one in particular that always stands out. The one that got away.

I lost a lot that day. Not only did I lose the case, but my partner as well. And in the corps, your partner was your lifeline. Something too sacred to lose. After recovering from my injuries in the hospital, chief sent me off on some R&R and when the shrink checked off I was okay, they sent me here on this hopeless case.

A backwater planet where multiple vessels become stranded before disappearing forever. It was pretty much a low key way of the department telling me ‘you fucked up so badly we don’t want you back. You’re useless to us now.’

As I lay in my cold, shabby quarters and think about this, I can’t help but become more intrigued by the case. A farming society on a planet where farming shouldn’t even be possible. The sun is too hot and there are no nutrients in the soil. The inhabitants don’t even produce enough waste on their own to make fertilizer.

My thoughts are interrupted by the captain as his voice rings out through the comms in my room.

“Hey, lieutenant, just wanted to give you a heads up. We dock at immigration in fifteen minutes.”

Stay tuned to figure out what happens next in Edge of Nowhere…

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