Lake Hollywood (Sermon for the Weary)
J.G. Simiński
Sometimes the majesty of the tall trees speak to my tiny human essence. Allow me not to
think of our paltry value in this morass that bases its importance on the unnatural,
the insignificant, convincing us that what we do is important.
think of our paltry value in this morass that bases its importance on the unnatural,
the insignificant, convincing us that what we do is important.
Our illness is seen in the disorder perpetrated on the natural: the bee returning to the hive
with a belly coated with pollen; a stream of fresh water running down a mountainside turning
into rivers; year round snow for the polar bear and arctic fox; air pure and breathable; a naturally
grown crop.
And the tall trees, where today you and I briefly walked among them, their crowns were
bathed in the day's waning rays of sun. Deeper down, darker and darker, rimming the lake.
Along the water’s edge, we upon the chill of the sleepy winter earth, walking in a circle. That light
at the top stirred a sense of hope, a wisp of potential that it will be better, but there we were way,
way down in the shadows.
Where is the Godly in the here and now? In the shadows and the dark? Where the humane is
no longer authentic, where it can't be trusted? Where nature is seen, but unseen? With hands
and arms raised up, reaching to the light at the top of the trees I ask out loud,
"Where is nature’s place?"
If I dare look closer, I see that nearby, trees have been hewn because manmade drought and
pollutions are erasing the natural day by day, or burned away so only bits now remain, taken by
our insatiable lust for more and more and more. And the buzz of insects, once so plentiful,
can no longer be heard. And on the ground candy wrappers and empty water bottles.
I am hurled again into the Godless. Into my own sadness, and I don't know how to console you,
as we walk among these lakeside trees, and I realize you don't see them. You, who so often
spoke to me of the Alpen glow from your days hiking the Sierra.
And we both are thinking, the rent will be due soon. And we pray for salvation.
"Foggy Day at the Lake" courtesy J.G. Simiński
J.G. Simiński, a poet, short story writer, memoirist, and creative nonfiction writer, is the 2024 Poetry Fellowship
recipient of the Martha's Vineyard Institute for Creative Writing and recipient of a 2025 scholarship, T.S. Eliot
Summer School, Merton College, Oxford. Simiński’s poetry has appeared in So it Goes: The Literary Journal of the
Kurt Vonnegut Museum and Library, Foglifter Press, The Kintsugi Journal, Frozen Sea Literary, Visual Verse
(UK), The Hawaii Review, and Prose.
recipient of the Martha's Vineyard Institute for Creative Writing and recipient of a 2025 scholarship, T.S. Eliot
Summer School, Merton College, Oxford. Simiński’s poetry has appeared in So it Goes: The Literary Journal of the
Kurt Vonnegut Museum and Library, Foglifter Press, The Kintsugi Journal, Frozen Sea Literary, Visual Verse
(UK), The Hawaii Review, and Prose.
