We are now immersed in a season of growth where the celebrations of Easter, Passover, and Ramadan are all beautifully framed by the Vernal Equinox. It is a special semester of life where birth and rebirth are celebrated; where we are all, no matter religion or creed, are given the chance to purify our souls and revisit our relationship with God. The significance of these days of renewal are soul-stirring and present us new opportunities to begin or deepen our own commitment to acts of love and devotion.
Maya Angelou was, and still is, one of my heroes. Her voice, both rangy and synoptic, inspired my own written word to expand beyond the boundaries and stumbling blocks I had placed upon its rise. I was her faithful student.
April 4 2023 would have been Maya’s 95th birthday. Oh, how I wish I could hear her voice again, delivering her messages in that raspy tone full of melodic joy. To honor this milestone day, I want to share with you a piece Maya wrote about grief and the departure of a great soul from your life. I am sure most of us can relate to losing someone special. The vast void that is created by the passing of a loved one is profound.
Let me now share with you this marvelous work of Maya Angelou. My desire is that these words reach you and comfort you, and hopefully, deliver you to a place of peace during this beautiful season.
When great trees fall, boulders 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, and 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, and be better because they existed.
-Maya Angelou