Children
Grandson
Click for meditationRegarding "Grandson"
As grandparents, we
Are given the opportunity to help
Shape the development of a
Young child again…
No matter how good
A job we think we may
Have done the first
Time around with
Our own children,
There are probably some
Things we wish we had done
Differently…and so with
Grandchildren we are given
A second chance. Part of my second
Chance has been to tell the
Equivalent of fairytale
Stories, stories with
A moral to them to be
Emphasized and learned,
Stories in a sense
Which are simple fables.
I have told these as
Bedtime stories, and they
Have centered around a
Mythical farm and
Pasture where all the
Animals magically come
To bucolic life…particularly little
Lambs, and one lamb in
Particular by the name, “Dingle.”
And so, when years ago, I saw that
My grandson in kindergarten had taken
These stories to his heart,
I realized a sense of satisfaction
Which far transcended
Anything the mighty world
Could ever have shouted from
The highest rooftops!
Leo Carroll
August 24, 2018
Proudly he shows me
His little papers from school, and
Amongst the simple images
And symbols is printed his
Choice when asked by his
Teacher to write his favorite
Animal’s name…
And
Then I see the influence
My bedtime storytelling on him
Has had, because penciled
In kindergarten script…innocently
Bleat the four tiny letters
Which spell the woolly
Word, “Lamb.”
Ode to Dromod’s Field
Click for meditationRegarding "Ode to Dromod’s Field"
In September 2000, two of
My daughters went to Ireland, and
While there visited a cemetery
In County Kerry where some of the
Forebears of my father’s family were buried.
My daughters asked me if I wanted
To accompany them. I told them,
“No,” that I was busy with other
Things I was doing. They persisted in
Asking me. I persisted in
Saying, “no.” And so they went
Alone, to traverse the land
Where four generations before
Some of my ancestors had
Left Ireland. I should have gone.
I knew it even before they
Returned. I could tell in their
Voices over the international
Telephone lines that they
Had touched something
Like a heartbeat or the flesh
Of a palm no longer heard or felt.
I saw the photos when they returned,
And my eyes were overwhelmed
By the power of the images.
And so I came to write this poem of
A burial ground in Dromod, County Kerry,
Which saw the faces of my
Daughters, and in seeing their
Features, saw mine, too…as well as
The likenesses of their sons
And daughters who had left
Long generations before.
Leo Carroll
September 3, 2018
Upon your stones we move about, in
Prayerful search ‘midst this wheat throughout.
We never knew ye, but feel sure, you
Watch us tread this earthen floor.
From thy loins sprang Dromod seed, a
Comely fruit and sweet-isle mead.
These sons and daughters cupped your
Hand, kissed it gently, then sailed your land.
Lo years later, with them long gone,
You see us now as we part these thorns.
We’ve come to say we love you, too, and
Brush these stones etched in dew.
For as we spread these weeds grown
Wild, you see our faces and ken our smiles.
On our faces, likened clear, are the long
Ago images of your children dear.
Know ye then, people of yore, we’ve
Come to sit your lap once more.
Against your breast we commune and sleep, safe
In the warmth your field doth keep.