Dylan Thomas wrote his prophetic poem after the tragedy of global war. His work attempted to make sense of a generation of possibilities wasted, laid slain on the plains of Europe. He promised survivors that "death shall have no dominion," a promise so simple and hopeful, yet so tragically defiant of all knowable evidence.
The death of young Regan Carmichael has effected me in a way that I cannot quit yet name. How does one process the death of a three month old? How does one cling to heavenly promises in spite of the temporal experience of suffering? How does one explain the belief in a loving father after witnessing Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, or what ever it was?
"Death Shall Have No Dominion" was a tool for easing pain, but that vision doesn't comfort me anymore. My eyes are too open.
