No Gentle Good Night
By Debra Dank
Published 4 August 2026
Seeming anodyne and inert, coal and gas burn beds fouled rivers cannot extinguish
as if paper and pencil jottings, as if a careless mistake
taken care of with a precise slash to mark
as worthless dust like Them.
Coal and gas, body and breadth of Us and Our Place, given for fleeting gold
the existential shine of a false God, a transient fiscal gloss
fed to an ever-hungry soul as if good medicine for
kin and Country.
Is that how easy it is to disregard life, to forget, to let go, to move on, to get over it?
Have you?
With navel strings uncut, stretch marks never grew of Us in 1901.
As you dress to observe your glistening church, did you notice that vague silhouette?
A cycad growing with ancient rock or coal bed,
before 1770 before I am sorry
before thinking became anodyne and Inert.
Do you ever see who it is that lurks in your shadow?
That other Self, the one you deny and torture because you need gold and shine
and to save the whales and kangaroos and little white flowers.
I weep for you and Them.
Tears and chants for whales and kangaroos and little white flowers but not
Them that you render as your Shadow, made to run at heel and Evolve into
different human form as if a Link Missing.
As if Others.
Words jotted with pencil on paper or spoken with passion are easy,
performance Work is hard and needs a mind present
heart, body, hands, and rage,
to think, to care, to feel, to do for Them, the distorted Others.
Liberate your eyes from the glitter and see Them, the more than 600
forever chained to 339 good suggestions
they will not be Forgotten, at night and morn.
We deeply Mourn.
Ancient bodies lay in beds now burned for carbon and nitrogen and poisoned water
as if Crematorium
to Cook and heat without warmth yet they still lay there
because they are never more than your shadow.
Are we forever body and shade, an analogous binary
of white and black? The wise are more than grey.
I carried Him, gently, one of more than 600, on my hip 26 years ago.
‘I carried Him, gently, one of more than 600, on my hip 26 years ago.’
Use this line to write the back story of those intimate moments that celebrate a life now lost.
Debra Dank
#30in30 #PoetryMonth
The ability to play with words and to utilise rhyme or different kinds of rhythm is something I really appreciate in producing poetry.