Do not go gentle into that good night,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
~Dylan Thomas

Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life.
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.
~Lord Byron

It was the rainbow gave thee birth, and left thee all her lovely hues.
~W. H. Davies

Awake, a rainbow arches behind closed eyes
as sunrise insinuates its motion,
when you’d rather sink in sorrow’s ocean,
and it doesn’t seem right life goes on, besides.
Why, when dearest died, these indifferent skies?
Unseemly signs? Monochrome emotion
lies between the grave and selfish notion
where loved one suffers—better than demise!
For you; for yours, who faced that final day;
and did not go gentle in that good night;*
and hung onto each gasp you would let go;
do as much as they; and those who gave way,
while firm in the faith they’d fought the good fight.
The rainbow gave thee birth—Tint tomorrow.*


© Helga Ross 2004, 2007