” When Great Trees Fall” by Maya Angelou

When great trees fall,

rocks on distant hills shudder,

lions hunker down

in tall grasses,

and elephnats

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,

see with

a hurt feel of 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 shrunk, wizened.

Our minds, formed

and unformed by their

radiance, fall away.

Godspeed Ruth!

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