Covid
Plumeria
Click for meditationRegarding "Plumeria"
There is an enclave in
Secunderabad, India, in the
Indian state of Telangana, where
A woman faithfully tends
Her simple, but astounding
Garden. There is an
Aspect to her work which
May be in remembrance of her
Father, a long-serving, decorated
Senior officer and doctor in
The Indian Army, who
Was also, himself, a devoted
Gardener. Although I have
Never visited this garden,
I liken the garden to a
Mythical haven for pilgrims
Aspiring to reach a higher
Indian plane. It is a floral
Masterpiece of beauty, and is a
Soothing sanctuary from
The snares and toils
Of daily life. And most
Importantly, it could be
Thought of as a bulwark and
Respite against evil,
Particularly the worldwide
Evil of the Covid virus
Which is rampaging within
India this very hour.
In this garden is the sweet,
White plumeria flower,
Which emits a fragrance
Impervious to this evil – and
Its self-effacing meekness
And innocence are what make it
So wondrous! Indeed, in
Some regions of India, the plumeria
Is considered a sacred flower,
And is believed to reside
At the highest level of heaven,
Home to the Hindu god,
Sri Krishna. In that context,
The plumeria’s perfume
Could be thought of as a
Natural antidote to anything
Which would want to do harm…
And its wafting scent also
A tribute to the dignity
Of the woman who planted
It and who tends it so lovingly — as
Would likewise her father in
The shadows, and for India
Still on guard…
Leo Carroll
May 6, 2021
What sacred grace, what
Staunchness, standing like it is
At the ramparts of heaven’s
Gate, the sweet face of plumeria,
Granting entrance to only
The meek and humble
Of heart, because each petal
Softens the arrogance of
Any other dreaded weight or
Earthly power…O’ champak,
As you are also called,
The palace guard perfumed
To all swaddled within
Your kingdom’s walls…
And to even contemplate how
You can so indomitably
Bloom – and not one
Of your five white petals
Flinches, no matter the
Covid fever which ravages
Within India’s bosom…!
Light in Dark
Click for meditationRegarding "Light in Dark"
I once read “art is creation.”
I cannot recall the name
Of the person who first said it,
But I believe the statement
To be true. And if art
Is creation, then in an
Infinitesimally small way,
Art contributes to the
Ongoing creation process of
The Big Bang…And so
In this context I continue
To write, actually more than
Usual in this time of Covid,
Because nothing can
Overcome the original
Creative power of the
Source of Creation!
And if art has been given
To me, even in the most
Insignificant of ways,
I can carry it in front of me
As an amulet of light –
To ward off the serpentine,
Evil forces of Covid’s
Dark and gloom.
Leo Carroll
December 20, 2020
Every night
I light my lights, and
Make my rounds
The dark despite,
And every
Night, room to
Room, into
The corners I peer
To illum…
Tug Boat Christmas
Click for meditationRegarding "Tug Boat Christmas"
Lingering in the back of
My mind was a photograph I had
Seen some time ago. It was
Of a simple tugboat tied up in 2018
In Boothbay Harbor, Maine,
With a Christmas wreath
Adorning its cabin door.
I finally decided to write a poem
About this photograph,
To relieve the pall cast over
Me by Covid, and to
Celebrate something which
Was a total antithesis
To the somber mood draping
In black bunting over Christmas
And Hanukkah and other
Spiritual and secular holidays.
And so this poem portrays
A crimson-red cabin door,
Obviously a bit worn for wear,
But yet clearly well
Cared for over the years,
And hanging on this door is a
Christmas wreath, which
Hardened sea hands had
Hung just two years ago, when
Hope was the unequivocal
“Jingle bell” of the holiday season.
Leo Carroll
December 11, 2020
Crimson-red, peeling, but
Not too old yet, a buttress against
What needs to be outside kept,
An entry for what inside
Can be let, a door, layered and
Lathered in lovingly applied
Strokes, a porthole to
Safely look out in a howling
Sea, and at the same
Time to be opened for
Wondrous eyes, in hopes
Of catching St. Nick at work after
Hanging his Christmas wreath.
King Tide
Click for meditationRegarding "King Tide"
The Christmas and Hanukkah
Seasons have the potential to be over-whelmed
By the attention being given to Covid…
It has been 2020’s most dominant story,
Far-surpassing anything else,
Even in a Presidential election news
Cycle. Other traditions such as
Kwanzaa, a secular, spiritual one
Which celebrates pan-African culture
And the African-American
Way of life, are equally in danger
Of being swamped by the “king” tide
Effect of living in this time of
A worldwide pandemic. In Hindu,
Diwali (or Divali), the joyful festival of
Lights, occurred last month on
November 14th, and had to contend
With the virus’s dark! The very
Essence of each these holiday seasons,
Even a secular one like Festivus,
Is the coming together of family and
Friends, and, in general, sharing
And partaking in bonhomie.
All are shaken to their very
Cores now…Even as I write this,
One of my daughters said,
“Dad, I guess we won’t be seeing
You on Christmas,” the look
In her eyes one I will not forget.
My insides screamed out,
“No, I will see you…!”
But how best and safely
In the coming weeks to still
Be determined…! Jesse Jackson
Is famous for saying, “Keep
Hope alive!” I believe our duty,
Our responsibility this year,
Is to somehow do just that…Our best
Way to strike at the heart of
Covid is the lighting of
Even just one Christmas or
Hanukkah candle, or the
Singing of just one Kwanzaa
Song, or the eating of just one
Diwali sweet snack, or the airing of
Just one Seinfeld-like, Festivus
“Grievance,” all while
Somehow prudently gathering,
And knowing the best
Antidotes are faith and the
Indomitable will of the human
Spirit to never give up!
Leo Carroll
December 9, 2020
It washed o’er my defenses,
Rising gently at first, but
My bastions were soon breached,
My seawall caught asleep,
My mind submerging ‘neath a
High tide with no antidote earthen,
Wave after wave piling
In, and their frigid hues
Gazing up at the cold
Moon, whose face, in turn,
Stared back with a chameleon’s
Covid smirk…
In the Midst
Click for meditationRegarding "In the Midst"
A “king” tide is when the sun
And moon align with each
Other, and the gravitational
Pull on the earth is at its
Absolute strongest. One such
Tide recently affected
Boston on November 16th,
When there was surprise flooding
In Boston’s Seaport District
And shutting down traffic.
It was a king tide which
Came to my mind when I
Was trying to equate the
Confluence of events which
Recently spun me into my own
Riptide. For I briefly found
Myself treading water in a
Metaphorical, strong
Ocean current, which, as
Much as anything, was caused
By the grinding, relentless
Burnout of ten months of
Covid (with no clear end in sight),
Together with the gloom
Of November’s declining
Weather and light, and with
My own furies adding a
Topping and dash of
Their unique spice…!
Leo Carroll
November 28, 2020
(Covid, Late Fall 2020)
A cold dampness settled
Within me, brought on by an
Endless Covid November and its
Drooling rain and the truth of
My age and the ground
Beneath having no name.
Everything seemed brown
About me, adrift, and wherever
My mind walked, it found
Itself floundering in a
Medieval bog, where to
Escape the muck my best
Path was to press forward and
Get further lost…