When great souls die (Maya Angelou)

When great trees fall,  

rocks on distant hills shudder, 

lions hunker down 

in tall grasses, 

and even elephants 

lumber after safety.  

When great trees fall 

in forests, 

small things recoil into silence, 

their senses 

eroded beyond fear. 

When great souls die, 

the air around us becomes 

light, rare, sterile. 

We breathe, briefly. 

Our eyes, briefly, 

see with a hurtful clarity. 

Our memory, 

suddenly sharpened, 

examines, 

gnaws on kind words 

unsaid, 

promised walks 

never taken. 

Great souls die and 

our reality, bound to 

them, takes leave of us. 

Our souls, 

dependent upon their 

nurture, 

now shrink, wizened. 

Our minds, formed 

and informed by their 

radiance, 

fall away. 

We are not so much maddened 

as reduced to the unutterable ignorance 

of dark, cold 

caves. 

And when great souls die, 

after a period, peace blooms, 

slowly and always 

irregularly. Spaces fill 

with a kind of 

soothing electric vibration. 

Our senses, restored, never 

to be the same, whisper to us. 

They existed. They existed. 

We can be. Be and be 

better. For they existed. 

 

~ Maya Angelou 

In November we remember All Souls...                 

 

Image source: Muir Woods National Monument, Marin County, California, https://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g60909-d124638-Reviews-Muir_Woods_National_Monument-Mill_Valley_Marin_County_California.html#photos;aggregationId=&albumid=&filter=7&ff=465890707