Death in Do Not Go Gentle, City Cafeteria, Death Shall Have no Dominion and Grandparents

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Death in Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night, City Cafeteria, And Death Shall Have no Dominion and Grandparents

Death is a highly personal event. It affects each of us differently. It affected Peter Kocan's man in the City Cafeteria by making him look empty and disoriented. It affected Dylan Thomas by making him think about what there was afterward, and what you could do to avoid it. Death even affected Robert Lowell by making him realise how much it changed his life. I, fortunately, seem to have avoided death in many ways, but also have been touched by it, even recently.

While preparing for this essay, ironically, one of my family pets died. It was a chicken named Ellephante, which belonged to my younger sister. I
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The whole of the poem, Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night, relates quite poignantly to the demise of Ellephante, albeit in a different way than perhaps intended.

"Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

This verse especially affects me - because I know how bright Ellephante's eyes were before it died, and I know from experience what fighting chickens looked like - eyes wide, claws up - and I can imagine Ellephante rage, raging against the dog next-door.

Ellephante was killed on Saturday morning, while my father and I were out shopping. My sister went into the back yard and discovered a pile of white feathers and a growling dog next door. When I returned home, my sister, aged 12, reminded me strongly of the man in Peter Kocan's City Cafeteria. She seemed to have the same, empty look about her. At lunchtime, she sat, as he does,

Picking absently at his (her) food

In a meek confusion.

I could feel, just looking at her, that something, a big part of her life, was gone and couldn't be easily replaced. There would be other chickens, sure, but none of them would be Ellephante, none of them would fly up and sit on her shoulder and peck at her hair. None of them would be that same little white ball of fluff she lovingly watched grow into a beautiful silky bantam.

I can only hope that, like
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