Vox Populi
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Michael Simms: Serene Gorilla in a Cloud of Butterflies
Serene Gorilla in a Cloud of Butterflies
— photograph by Anup Shah: Bai Holuou, Central Africa
Her name is Malui and she is walking through a cloud of butterflies she’s disturbed.
Her eyes are almost closed. A butterfly rests on her upper lip.
Yesterday, my dog and I were walking through a playground when she suddenly stopped.
I closed my eyes and felt a doe and fawn watching us from the edge of the woods.
Part of a great cloud of witnesses aware of how we disturb the world.
My dog’s name is Josie. I don’t know the names of the doe and fawn.
When she was a girl, Jane Goodall had a dog named Rusty.
Anup means pond in Sanskrit. It also means unique.
Anup Shah lives in the wild for long periods of time imagining the first cave paintings of animals.
Malui carried the body of her dead infant for 30 hours. Later, she gave birth to twins.
Jane carried a stuffed monkey named Mr. H to 65 countries, meeting many dogs around the world..
In her final days, Koko the gorilla signed the words patient and old, suggesting she was aware of her own mortality.
Jane’s friend David Greybeard died of pneumonia in 1968, but Flo’s sons survived the Gombe Chimpanzee War. Jane’s son Grub is a boat builder in Tanzania.
On the day of Jane’s death, Josie and I watched an enormous ecstasy move across the sky
~~~
for our teacher Jane Goodall (April 3, 1934 – October 1, 2025)
Top Photo: Western lowland gorilla female ‘Malui’ walking through a cloud of butterflies she has disturbed in a bai (Gorilla gorilla gorilla). Bai Hokou, Dzanga Sangha Special Dense Forest Reserve, Central African Republic. Photo by Anup Shah/The Nature Conservancy
Michael Simms is the founding editor of Vox Populi. His most recent collection of poetry is Jubal Rising (Ragged Sky, 2025).
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I found myself smiling as I slowly read through this lovely tribute to a woman who changed our way of looking at the animal kingdom and who changed the way we think of our place on this planet.
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Thanks, Mandy.
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What a perfect tribute to this brave and inspiring woman.
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Thanks, Joanne.
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Thank you so much for this deep and lovely poem, Michael. We lost a saint.
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Indeed, we did.
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Lovely, Michael. A moving tribute and a reminder of -how to see hope and beauty, even in these difficult times.
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Thanks, Clayton.
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What a fine poem this is, Michael! An elegy or ode or song of praise. Of many fine lines, these two moved me especially:
Part of a great cloud of witnesses aware of how we disturb the world.
My dog’s name is Josie. I don’t know the names of the doe and fawn.
Thank you so much, dear poet!
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Thank you, Mary. I admire your work so much!
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I’m here a morning late in appreciation of your poem and its many subjects comprising the beauty of an exquisite human being. So many moments I regret the presence of humankind on the face of the world, but someone, probably Sagan said something like, We are a way for a star to know about itself, which in the scheme of things is to say it otherwise might not. Of course we are that shining, and Jane counts among the best of us, and I at last in light of it all, you and poetry included, Michael, am grateful to be human and present.
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Thank you so much, Sean, for your many beautiful lyrics praising other poets.
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She was a gift to humanity and to the community of sentient beings across the world. What you call your “broken” poem, Michael, is a perfect response to the loss of such a big love.
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Thank you so much, Louise.
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I love every word of this, Michael. ❤️
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Thank you, Jan. You have such a large heart.
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The world, not just humanity, was blessed to have Jane Goodall in it. Thank you, Michael for carrying that blessing forward. I always thought of her as a hero, and her love as a hopeful set of actions. Hopefully, she will never be forgotten.
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Thank you, Jim. Yes, she was a hero in championing wild animals and the environments that foster them.
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Beautiful poem, Michael. Beautiful tribute.
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Thank you, Stephanie!
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I, too, want to express my gratitude for this poem, Michael. The world has lost a giant…
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Thanks, Christine. She was a giant, and from my brief time with her, I can say she was an incredibly wise and kind person.
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Beautiful tribute, Michael. Such a great loss to the world, and we should, as you point out, pay attention to the way these beings pay attention to us.
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Thanks, Marty!
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Beautiful, Michael. I’m listening over and over to the Eagles singing their beautiful song, “There’s a hole in the world tonight.'”
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Thanks, HC!
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That’s just perfect for Jane, my hero – he natural world and all who sail in her. Thank you, Michael.
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Thank you, Rose Mary, for your many astute and passionate comments here. I appreciate your sustained attention.
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How moving your elegy, dear Michael. Each end stopped stanza inviting the associative leap of another image, another connection– all vibrant like those butterflies around Malui’s head, all ardent with awe & gratitude for this extraordinary woman — all love & kindness & wit and hope. Thank you for this Sunday requiem for her.
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Thanks, Laure-Anne. You’re very kind. I felt shattered at the news of Jane’s death, so the poem came out broken, a catalogue of disparate images and ideas. Even though she was in her 90’s, it never occurred to me she would die soon; she seemed to be a fact of nature like a stream or a mountain…
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thank you for this. I hope we never forget her.
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If any of us are remembered, it should be her.
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A beautiful tribute and the perfect pairing with today’s Wormser essay. Thanks, Michael. This is exquisite.
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Thank you, Richard. I appreciate your comments in VP. Your tribute to Baron in the companion piece is incredibly perceptive about his unique vision.
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During covid, I took an online course with Jane Goodall in which she talked about environmental activism. She was wise, helpful, practical and charming. Her professional achievement was enormous, almost singlehandedly inventing a new scientific field, but it may be that her greatest achievement was in persuading us to see animals and the world they live in as things worthy in their own right. We were lucky to have her among us.
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From John Edward Simms: From the Atlantic article “Jane Goodall’s Second Greatest Talent”: A disgruntled male colleague commented that “they wouldn’t put her on the cover if she didn’t have nice legs.”
“If somebody said that today, they’d be sued, right?” Goodall responded. “Back then, all I wanted was to get back to the chimps, so if my legs were getting me the money—thank you, legs! And if you look at those covers, they were jolly nice legs!”
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What a touching and celebratory elegy for Jane Goodall, Michael, that manages to be both entirely personal and entirely universal. An elegy for Jane and the way we “disturb the world.” And a perfect companion piece with Baron’s essay!
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Thank you, Bob.
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A seemingly disparate chain of associations that magically coalesces to hymn of ode and wonder. Love this.
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Thank you, Michelle.
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