‘Do not go gentle into that good night’

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Entry to the vault of the De Kat family, cemetery of Dordrecht

The oldest cemetery of my hometown was created in 1828 when it was still surrounded by meadows. Now the city has engulfed this place of rest, but it still is a peaceful corner. The historic part of the graveyard is beautifully laid out in rectangles and squares. It has a pond with a green island, plus a moat and a picturesque bridge with a ditto railing.

Here are also the oldest crypts owned by rich families. Although the burial site has the status of national monument, the older graves and vaults look rather neglected. Every now and then I visit the place to take pictures, but the last time was different. I have recently joined Thursday Doors and now realized that the old crypts also had doors. So I looked at them in another way.

Above you find the entry to the vault of the De Kat family. This grave too is somewhat dilapidated, as you can see in the more detailed photos below. On the opposite site of the vault is a second entry, which belongs to the Hooft family.

The photos were taken towards the end of the afternoon, so this is half-light in more than one sense. Which reminds me of the poem ‘Do not go gentle in that good night‘ by the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas that my late mother loved so much. Here are the first lines:

‘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.’

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15 thoughts on “‘Do not go gentle into that good night’

  1. It looks as though a person would have to bend over quite a bit to get inside this door. Perhaps it merely opened to put in coffins. Quite something, though, and I’ve always like that poem.

    janet

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  2. Ahh I think we may have gotten you hooked on doors 😉
    Once you start noticing them, you’ll find that they will jump out at you from everywhere. No worries though, it is a harmless addiction.
    Nice post this week 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. You’re quite right. When I was reviewing my photos this week, it turned out that I had recorded more doors than I remembered. Could it be that the addiction was already there, hidden?

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