Butterfly
Palms and Wings
Click for meditationRegarding "Palms and Wings"
It was only when
Seeing my granddaughter
Cradling and
Preserving the little
White form in her
Palms that
I realized the
Overwhelming
Power and meaning
Of the Gospel’s
Call to become as
If a little child.
The purity of her
Innocence
At the moment
Of showing me the
Butterfly was
Absolutely
Staggering…
Until I realized
The butterfly was
Also showing me my
Granddaughter.
Leo Carroll
April 23, 2018
Could
Tiny white wings
E’er be held
By more
Protective
Palms?
Could
Little palms e’er
Be anointed
By wings
With a lighter
Balm?
Could
More innocent
Palms e’er
Keep white
Wings safe from
Harm?
Could
More attentive
Wings e’er
Cherish
A small child’s
Psalm?
Ode to Milkweed Pods
Click for meditationRegarding "Ode to Milkweed Pods"
I love milkweed pods,
And I love the field I find them in
Up in the woods of Maine.
Every time I walk into
That hallowed Maine field,
My eyes sweep for
Milkweed pods, and if I locate
Them, I always lie amongst
Them, as if their long
Stalks were blessing me,
The very same feeling I get as
When I dive into the healing foam
And font of the ocean.
So simple is Maine, so
Hardscrabble are
Its shrouded woods, so
Hidden its fields of milkweed,
So magnanimous to me,
So accepting, as if
I was a monarch butterfly,
And had alighted their sweet
Nectar to imbibe for my
Migration to eternity!
Leo Carroll
August 26, 2018
I thought I would
Never sit amongst you again…
That you would be but
A memory I always inhaled in the
Hymnal of my breath,
But then there you were —
Unexpectedly back, awaiting me —
The face to me of Maine’s autumn, and
So accepting unconditionally!
And so amongst you
I reclined, and you began to
Nourish me as if I was a
Monarch butterfly, and your pods
Became the nectar to sustain my pilgrim’s
Flight, until finally my migration
Reached the old by-and-by…
Releasing
Click for meditationRegarding "Releasing"
This poem is a
Metaphor for when one of my
Daughters was getting
Ready to relocate
To New York City to
Pursue the next
Phase of her life.
What a wonderful and
Thoughtful daughter she
Had been, and still is…
At the time, I was filled with
All sorts of strong
Emotions, as I realized she
Was leaving the home for good.
In a way, it was as if I
Was reliving the emotions of
Teyve, the father of
Five daughters in
Imperial Russia, in the
Great movie and Broadway play,
“Fiddler on the Roof.”
All had been done
To raise my daughter, but
In my mind she still
Danced and twirled as
A small girl…
But now it was
Time to let her go…
Releasing is never easy.
It can be painful
And very sad, but life
Has to continue in its fragile
Form and flight, like a
‘Julia Longwing’ butterfly
Lifting off from cupped hands,
And then watching its
Loving climb…
Leo Carroll
May 30, 2018
Good-bye, my butterfly,
My hands are cupped to lift your ride.
Bye-bye, my butterfly,
My eyes are raised to watch your climb.
Good-bye, my butterfly,
Lo may you land ‘neath loving sky.