'Go gentle into that good night, Tata.
In life you burned and raved and raged against the death of our light.
Your words forked lightning across our land; your convictions danced around your captors.
You turned your back on ten thousand suns in flight for us,
and grieved wild youth in concrete cold through years of night.
You saw with blinding sight and fierce tears that our freedom was worth the ultimate cost: your own.
And you, my father, there on that sad height, gave your liberty, your family, your youth, your health, your very life, so we could have this freedom for which we show such cynical contempt.
And now, with fierce tears I pray
That you go gentle into that good night.'
- by Janice Winter