Re: Re: When great trees fall

[Guest guest]

Like when we are totally, non-judgmentally in the moment?D 

 

i'd like to think that if there was a soul, it would be pure and untouched...far away from the layers of our over thinking mind

>

> Got this one recently from a friend whose husband died suddenly at age 51. Life is so fleeting and fragile. The questions I'm left with are " What makes a great soul? Am I a great soul? Will anyone miss me when I die? " Don't know the answers. I'm here now and I matter now.

>

>

> We can be. Be and be

> better. For they existed.

>

>

> Helena

>

>

>

>

>

> When great trees fall

> by 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.

>

-- Darrell G King, RN, CASAC-TRochester, NY, UShttp://darrellking.comDarrellGKing@...

[Guest guest]

I don't know exactly what Maya Angelou was referring to when she used the term "great soul." As a reader, I personally translated that to mean "great human being." Poetry is like that; you can read into it whatever you want and it may not even be close to what the writer intended. That the words deeply touch you in some way is the power and the beauty of poetry, I think. This poem, which was so comforting in a bittersweet way to my friend who recently lost her husband, led me to wonder what makes a great soul (great human being) and am I one? She speaks so poignantly to missing and being changed by the loss of a great soul/(human being), and I had to wonder if anyone would miss me like that. It's good to do some soul-searching (or human-heart-seaching) now and then, which is how this poem affected me. I want to be the kind of human being who matters to others, both now and after I'm gone. I'm not sure I will leave that kind of trace behind. It makes me sad, in a way, but I'm not dead yet and I can live my life in a way that matters to me and to others - now.HelenaFrom: "Darrell King" <DarrellGKinggmail>To: "ACT for the Public" <ACT_for_the_Public >Sent: Monday, April 23, 2012 5:42:20 PMSubject: Re: Re: When great trees fall

Like when we are totally, non-judgmentally in the moment?D

i'd like to think that if there was a soul, it would be pure and untouched...far away from the layers of our over thinking mind

>

> Got this one recently from a friend whose husband died suddenly at age 51. Life is so fleeting and fragile. The questions I'm left with are "What makes a great soul? Am I a great soul? Will anyone miss me when I die?" Don't know the answers. I'm here now and I matter now.

>

>

> We can be. Be and be

> better. For they existed.

>

>

> Helena

>

>

>

>

>

> When great trees fall

> by 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.

>

-- Darrell G King, RN, CASAC-TRochester, NY, UShttp://darrellking.comDarrellGKinggmail