Vox Populi
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Michael Simms: Love
When I was a child, my mother told me God has many faces And She reveals Herself In many ways. God might be The cleaning lady who came To our house on Tuesdays, Or the woman in rags sitting on the sidewalk, Or the blind girl lost in the bus station. You never know, she said, who She is Or what She has in mind for us. * This from a Southern Baptist girl Whose family sent her sisters to college And passed her by. She learned About the world through novels And movies -- endless stories folded Into endless laundry. She bore Five children in five years. This kind generous woman Overwhelmed by work, Sustained by dreaming, blinded By the bright light Of love, raised denial To an art form. Everyone she knew Was a secret perfection. Our best selves were exactly What she knew us to be. Her husband was not A narcissistic bully, Vain, egotistical and angry, no, He was a hero who charged Into work every single day To provide for his growing and Perfect family. Her sister was not A lesbian who hid a 40 year Relationship with her partner, Living a necessary lie, But a woman who so loved Her friend she would risk The insults and injuries Of bigotry. And I… I was not a lost young man Baffled by life, who drank too much, But her shining prince, Her Byron, her Cary Grant. * When she shared her vision Of God’s many faces With her brother-in-law, The pastor, he slammed His fist on his desk And proclaimed Blasphemy! She never spoke of it again. But once, I saw her sitting on the sofa Stroking the cat, pausing at a page In National Geographic – an illustration Of Kali, the blue four-armed goddess, Tasking her many children, Nurturing, disciplining the unruly World. The Divine Mother, Her long pink tongue sticking out Defiantly, stands with one foot Stolidly on the ground, And one foot on her husband Shiva, the Destroyer of Worlds, Who seems oddly content lying there, While She, the Mother of Time, Holds the dark severed head Of His enemy in one hand, another hand Holding a bowl to catch the dripping blood.
Janie Lu Cook Simms (1933-2012)
Michael Simms is the founding editor of Vox Populi. His latest collection of poetry is Nightjar (Ragged Sky, 2021). Originally from Texas, Simms now lives in Pittsburgh.
“Love” by Michael Simms is from American Ash published by Ragged Sky, copyright 2020.
Vox Populi 
Michael:
This is a wonderful poem I missed through the glitch of the site changes that left my screen bare. I’m still not certain how to deal with it, its almost like looking away to see something better in the dark, but I found a scroll somehow clicking something up top and was able to view (or review) everything from today’s book review, to Jim May and Dawn, not to mention your lost (to me) Mother poem. Loved it!
Thankyou. Still working on making the site work. Needs some sitework. Hah!
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Thanks, Sean. The WordPress Platform is causing the glitches. They’ve told me that they are working on the problem. Thanks for staying with us.
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A touching, complex and lovely tribute to your Mom. I like her.
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Thanks, Claudia!
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Thank you for this. Little wonder you became a poet. And a good one! C.
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Thank you!
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Wonderful portrait, Michael.
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Thank you, Sally!
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I love the way this poem moves. At first, it almost seems light and uplifting. The reader almost expects it to take a nasty turn toward the Hallmark Card. Instead, the images get disturbing and even exotic. And finally revelatory in ways that defy precise definition. The poem flows the way the Mississippi flows, a simple stream at first, but one that ends in a delta that spreads in a hundred directions.
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Thanks, John!
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Oh what a wondeful moment reading this poem, or should I say moments, as I’ve read it 3 times in rapid succession, getting to know this woman. Thanks Michael.
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Thanks, Emily!
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Wow! For some reason I need that exact poem today!
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Thanks, Barbara!
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And today I read it again for the first time. Gift or curse? A first reading allow the gasp. The discovery that it is not the first reading, a whimper.
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Thank you, Barbara!
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Wow! A powerful and moving poem. Charlie
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Thanks, Charlie!
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perfect. wow. exactly.
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Thanks, Brenda!
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Terrific poem, Mike. It has moved me greatly.
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Thanks, Sarah!
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Mike,
Great, powerful poem!
Jo
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Thank you, Jo!
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