Episode 38: I’d Never Been Outside at night

Hi everyone, I hope you’re doing as well as you can be this week. Our poem today is a Villanelle, which is a French form of poetry alternating two repeating lines. This episode is inspired by the famous poem, “Do not go gentle into that good night”, by Dylan Thomas. It allows us to think about moments when we’ve been afraid to venture outside, especially at night (literally and of ourselves). More specifically, the poem explores how we hide inside—our home and internally—from what we’re afraid of, thinking that we’re protecting ourselves. Sometimes this is necessary! Fear can be useful fireproofing, but not always. Though it feels safer and warmer indoors, there is much we can only see and experience outside (of ourselves and the literal places we hide in), even after the sun goes down. 

I’ll share it with you now:

I’d never been outside at night

to drink a sky of blueberry tea, and then

I see the moon & take a toothless bite.

From basement bed corners I’d fight,

hiding & sleeping & lonely & safe & warm, 

so I’d never been outside at night.

Now, first, from the front stoop, a comet kite

eats stars and stars and stars and still,

I see the moon & take another toothless bite.

So hungry, I leave just a sliver of white

and feed every memory of when 

I’d never been outside at night.

Now, second, standing on the street in sparkling light, 

my sclera flash beams blurring every edge, but

I see the moon & about to take another bite,

I turn & cry to my own window, aglow with fright,

“See that waning crescent? With a final invite?

Like you, until now I’d never been outside at night,

and seeing the moon, I’ll leave behind a bite.”

Breathe the words in. What do they make you feel or think? How did they connect with your senses? What colours or symbols did you notice? What meaning did you draw? Metaphors? Interpretations? Clarity? Messages?