Friday, October 28, 2005
Honor the fallen
Neighbors and travelers (and we are all travelers in one form or another, neighbors too.)
Today marks the beginning of a journey that has taken many months to ripen and whose fruit has taken many hands to nurture to sweetness. We have been told by many that we labor in vain and that our harvest will be barren. Rich voices from the dark corners tell us that The Big Brothers will take care of all and too many of 1.1 million voices
believe, and stay silent. How will you answer the darkness, the world is waiting.
The dieing tears of gentle souls wet the Ryan White Care Act. The sweat and labor by thousands of PWA's and loved ones have guided the Act through the years, as many others have tried to unknot this important safety net. How can any stay silent after a generation sacrificed themselves on a bureaucratic alter of apathy?
What will your response be in a time where your people (your community,) need you so badly? As I experienced The Quilt in
Washington D.C. (actually the only time I could bear to see it,) from the Lincoln Memorial someone read from Dillon Thomas, Chaka Khan sang Amazing grace and the candles of our dead lined the way to the White House. When our history is written will you be absent?
The Campaign to End AIDS needs you.
Christopher E. Posler
Co-Chair- Diva Express
C2EA.com
Link to personal page:
http://www.campaigntoendaids.org/siteapps/personalpage/ShowPage.aspx?c=fnJMKLNmFmG&b=929341&sid=quI4JaNLJjL0K7PWH
Dylan Thomas - Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
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.
And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Today marks the beginning of a journey that has taken many months to ripen and whose fruit has taken many hands to nurture to sweetness. We have been told by many that we labor in vain and that our harvest will be barren. Rich voices from the dark corners tell us that The Big Brothers will take care of all and too many of 1.1 million voices
believe, and stay silent. How will you answer the darkness, the world is waiting.
The dieing tears of gentle souls wet the Ryan White Care Act. The sweat and labor by thousands of PWA's and loved ones have guided the Act through the years, as many others have tried to unknot this important safety net. How can any stay silent after a generation sacrificed themselves on a bureaucratic alter of apathy?
What will your response be in a time where your people (your community,) need you so badly? As I experienced The Quilt in
Washington D.C. (actually the only time I could bear to see it,) from the Lincoln Memorial someone read from Dillon Thomas, Chaka Khan sang Amazing grace and the candles of our dead lined the way to the White House. When our history is written will you be absent?
The Campaign to End AIDS needs you.
Christopher E. Posler
Co-Chair- Diva Express
C2EA.com
Link to personal page:
http://www.campaigntoendaids.org/siteapps/personalpage/ShowPage.aspx?c=fnJMKLNmFmG&b=929341&sid=quI4JaNLJjL0K7PWH
Dylan Thomas - Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
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.
And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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