When Great Trees Fall

(Prairiewoods tree that fell on the labyrinth due to the derecho)

Often over the years since I first learned Maya Angelou’s poem “When Great Trees Fall” in 1990, it has consoled me during the deaths of many loved ones. These weeks in light of the derecho and hurricane destruction, the wild fires, the Pandemic, the social, political and spiritual unrest, I offer the poem as prayer for all who grieve loss of life.

When Great Trees Fall
by Maya Angelou, I Shall Not Be Moved

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.

—Ann Jackson, PBVM, Prairiewoods spiritual services coordinator