Peadar de Burca: Do Not Go Gentle Into The Night

It takes your eyes and ears and makes you weak at the knees. Worst of all it can put doubt in your mind, and that’s a dangerous thing because doubt leaves the door open to sickness. My friend has had his troubles. Those of you reading this, who have been touched by sickness, know how even when you recover and come out on the other side, the world is a different place. It can be scary. It can be mean and unforgiving and pushing the world away and keeping the curtains closed sometimes feels like the only option left. It’s not though. And I want my friend to know I care about him. And even if he never sets a toenail beyond his porch ever again,

I don’t want him to go gently into the night. I want him to throw those curtains wide and curse the darkest evening of the year with laughter. I want him to meet our dog, Luci, the greatest dog in Gliwice. I want him to tell my girls how he, like them, went to School number 9. How he went to Rimmer High school and was taught by the legendary August.

I want him to tell them how he studied in the Automatics department of the Technical University where in those rough days there were no textbooks in Polish and they had to make do with the Russian originals. I want him to tell them about his army service, a lieutenant in an anti-aircraft unit. Lilly and Malina and Gertie need to hear this. When will they ever again meet a person with the ability to bring down a plane with a rocket? I want him to tell Malina about horses.

I want him to tell her how he was such an amazing horseman that he was given stallions to ride and rode them in movies and on television. I want him to tell me more about the Tatra mountains and how he knows them backwards. I want him to read the poems he wrote about nature. I want this unwilling baritone but very willing yodeler to sing for the PRACTICAL SILESIAN WIFE.

I want him to throw open his curtains and rage against the dying of the light. Do it for me, because one day I too will be old and will need some fool to come to my window and not care how unwell I’m feeling and pester me into rejoining the world. And if you can’t come outside, let us come to you. And if masks aren’t enough, we’ll wear Hazmat suits. We can do this. The PSW knows where to get them. I want to hear your anecdotes again. Your jokes. But mostly I want you to fight the dark with life’s lightning. I want to stand shoulder to shoulder with you this Christmas. I want us to share a whiskey, a slice of Christmas pudding and curse the assholes who rule Poland. Can you do Staszek? Can you do it for me? Please Staszek, it’s my birthday. Please, do not go gentle into the night.