Rage, rage against the dying of the light
If you've followed my Twitter feed for the past few hours, you'll have seen these tweets.
I tried to dismiss it with this:
However, I can't dismiss it that easily.
No, I've never broken bread with him. But I've known him. I know his wife. (Who is Latina, a green-card holder, and thus someone on Trump's undesirables list.) We've been friendly for 8 years. And it was a sucker punch. It was more than that: it felt like a betrayal. The one thing on which he agrees with Trump, and it's the one thing Trump would do to his wife and his wife's family.
Right now I am at a loss of what to make of this world. Someone who I thought was sane turns out to have the beast in him. Which makes me wonder what beast lurks within me, within all of us. And how we tame that beast, or keep it caged.
And immediately afterwards I thought of Dylan Thomas. "Do not go gentle into that good night / Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
That's where we are right now. Raging against the darkness. Lighting candles, as I wrote in my previous essay. It's what we must do, unless we want to end. And it would be so easy to our quietus make, just to take a rest. Except that would be the height of selfishness, and a betrayal to those who come after us, and who depend on us now.
So, for this Friday night, rage with me against the dying of the light.
This is your open thread.
Like what you read? Chip in, keep us going.