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rwork Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Mon Feb-14-05 11:17 AM
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Democracy Now this morning
They devoted most of the hour to Ossie Davis's funeral.The Big Dog was there. Maya Angelou read one of her poems.She wrote it back in the 50's or 60's when Ossie and his wife had a radio show.It was very beautiful.She brought in a little humor.She said Ossie only gave her $50.00 for the poem.He told her he only had $100.00 and he split it with her. The poem went something like,When a giant tree falls in the forest, Lions hunker down in tall grass,even elephants run to safer ground.There is a vibration the air. I wish I could remember more of it. He is now part of our history.He will affect all of us in some way.Harry Belafonte got in a good slam on bush*.He said Ossie said he hated the emperialistic manner of the U.S. trying to dominate the world.He got large applause for that.
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bloom Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Mon Feb-14-05 11:30 AM
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1. Here it is...
And then the heaviest door in the universe slammed shut. And there were no knobs. The season of grief fell around us like the leaves of autumn. 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 are eroded beyond fear. When great souls die, the air around us becomes sterile, light rare. We breathe briefly. Our eyes briefly see with a hurtful clarity. Our memory, suddenly sharpened, examines gnaws on kind words unsaid, on promised walks not taken. Great souls die, and our reality bound to them takes leave of us. Our souls, dependent upon them, upon their nature, upon their nurture, now shrink wisened. Our minds formed and informed by their radiance seems to fall away. We are not so much maddened as reduced to the unutterable silence of dark, cold caves. And then our memory comes to us again in the form of a spirit, and it is the spirit of our beloved. It appears draped in the wisdom of DuBois, furnished in the humor and the grace of Paul Laurence Dunbar. We hear the insight of Frederick Douglass and the boldness of Marcus Garvey. We see our beloved standing before us as a light, as a beacon, indeed, as a way. We are not so much reduced. Suddenly the peace blooms around us. It is strange. It blooms slowly, always irregularly. Space is filled with a kind of soothing electric vibration. We see the spirit, and we know our senses. We change, resolved, never to be the same. They whisper to us from the spirit. Remember, he existed. He existed. He belonged to us. He exists in us. We can be, and be more, every day more. Larger, kinder, truer, more honest, more courageous, and more loving because Ossie Davis existed and belonged to all of us.
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rwork Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Mon Feb-14-05 11:38 AM
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2. Thanks Bloom
Her delivery of that was so powerful.
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bloom Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Mon Feb-14-05 11:52 AM
Response to Reply #2
3. Thanks for heads up!
I'll try to catch it.

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