When Great Trees Fall

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When great trees fall

- Maya Angelou

When great trees fall,


rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
Shudder: tremble
Hunker: squat
Lumber: move slowly and awkwardly
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
Recoil: shrink
Eroded: worn out
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.

Rare: here, not in adequate quantity


Sterile: here, not good to breathe, Lifeless
Hurtful clarity: understanding which is painful
Gnaws on: continues to remind us painfully
Unsaid: words which remain unspoken
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.

Bound: attached
Nurture: care and encouragement
Radiance: bright qualities
Wizened: shrivelled
Fall away: sag, slacken
Dark cold caves: dark caves of despair
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
Soothing: comforting
Restored: brought back

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