Creation
Not Too Far
Click for meditationRegarding "Not Too Far"
Not too far from the Jeep Trail
Winding through Morrill’s woods is an old
Colonial-era homestead, or, more
Specifically, the homestead’s
Cellar hole, made of hardscrabble
Stones which would have been
Painfully unearthed by calloused
Flesh in times long gone.
The homestead site is totally
Invisible from the Jeep Trail, perhaps
No more than 75 feet away…
Forgotten, blocked by
Increasingly thick woods.
Also blocked or lost
Are all the homestead’s
Memories. Trees are even
Trying to grow in the cellar hole
Itself! Nothing speaks,
Nothing moves…it is only
Creation which knows what the
Stone cellar walls know.
It is only Creation which has
Heard the voices which once made
The homestead a home.
And it is only Creation
Which can bathe in warmth
The cold November temperatures
Ingrained in the stones, even
As they still feel the freeze
Of the ancient glacier which once
Tumbled them when the
Land was not even known…
Leo Carroll
December 11, 2019
Near the Jeep Trail
Here I sit this cellar hole amidst,
Just stoic stones remaining without the flesh
Which long ago them set…nothing
Left now…no voices, no laughing,
No crying…no pain, no joy…
No births, no deaths…no nothing…
Just this lone moment long
After footsteps took their last
Step…long after the last
Crib was rocked, long after
Was whispered the final vesper
At someone’s death…
But yet despite, still the sun
Shines, and to the cellar
Hole addresses, “I know all that
You did…so please take my
Warmth, and let this light up’n
Your stones be visited.”
Ode to Old Homestead
E’en the trees have tried to
Take o’er your cellar’s soul…but they
Underestimate the strength of
Your carefully-fitted stones…
What chance have the trees – –
Their trunks are made of
Mere wood!? Your stones are
Much harder than that, and e’en
An ancient glacier into the
Sea could not them push…
Musings
Click for meditationRegarding "Musings"
There are some moments,
Some places, some situations, which
Can cast us into a freefall of
Emotions and thoughts
And musings. Such was the
Case when I was on
The beach in Mutiny Bay
On Whidbey Island.
My writings, while there,
Were both related and
Unrelated to the beauty of
The seashore, but they
Were a consistent collage
Of who I was, who I am,
And where the Muse has
Led my longing to be.
My thoughts placed me in
Awe before the Divine,
But also swung me back to
Consider the clay of
My humanity.
Leo Carroll
November 20, 2019
Knowing
If only I knew that I would
Never know, that I was merely
Destined to sit a beach
Like this, and to always
Wonder the meaning of a back
And forth, tidal flow…
If only I knew that I would
Never know, would I still persist and
Sit this beach, and in tremble
And awe be satisfied
With what had been gifted
So exquisitely…?
Seasons
…The eternal, intriguing
Nature of your smile, felt
Particularly in autumn, and
Fleeting, but always long
Enough to me beguile…it haunts
Me still, ne’er too far away —
What once I felt I knew,
But now the meaning I
Cannot explain…
Feelings
Puget Sound cold are my hands,
And cool across my brow brushes
A wind which also cloisters
And huddles shoulder-to-shoulder
The grains of sand, but
Blessedly and thankfully,
Faintly still warms the sun, and
About me circles the lingering
Season of someone.
Whispers
Click for meditationRegarding "Whispers"
I recently spent three
Absolutely beautiful days on
Washington state’s
Whidbey Island. It was
A magnificent time,
Wondrous and peaceful,
The whole effect brought to
Gorgeous culmination
By the sun shining across
Puget Sound onto the shores
Of Mutiny Bay. It was
A stunning vista, a surreal
Majesty. Standing on
The water’s edge, it was
As if I was at Heaven’s
Gate, and all I had
To do was to dip my
Toes into the water
Or to wet my face with
The clear-as-glass
Saline liquid, and I
Would enter a portal to
Everlasting grace.
Leo Carroll
October 29, 2019
Path’s End
Could I have finally
Found what so long for I
Have sought, my first glimpse of
Heaven’s gate where the
Water purrs like a mirror
‘Neath the care of a loving,
Soft cloth…? And radiant
To me, presented as
Peace almost blinding
Yet abiding, beaming through
Gilded clouds, as if God’s
Face was unfurled in a
Predestined bottle
Shining…
Awe
My footprints stop at
Water’s edge, having finally in awe
Come upon a view of
Waiting heav’n…and then,
Realizing the Beauty
Was far, far more than
Mortal verse could
Express…I became
Speechless, content to be
A witness to the Mysterious
And unexpected…
Whose
And whose other
Footprints are these, has
Someone else stood
This shore and
Heaven’s gate also seen, a
Portal open through
Which a pilgrim can walk,
And into the Kingdom
Of Light be welcomed as a son
Or daughter of God?
Plea
Cleanse me, O Lord, of
That which I should
Not imbibe, and leave within
Me only the salt from
This flat, calm sea,
A metaphor I believe
For when I first became
Alive…and realized in
Your presence that
Terror was defeated…
If Only
If only I could wash
My face clean…all that would be
Left would be the salt of
The Divine…and I could taste
It with my tongue and
Up’n my soul let it lie…
Before the Throne
Comes to me the
Chirp of some bird, the buzz of
Some simple bee, and
Then silence, extended
Silence, silence like it
Was before was heard the first
Sound, and then before
Me shrugged the
Essence of All Majesty
And spoke, “What is
Your doubt, why is lament
So often your song?”
Beloved
Click for meditationRegarding "Beloved"
There is a place upon a
Beach, a low-slung cottage
Attached to tufts of sea grass and
Sand on a Whidbey Island bay.
It is brown and small and
Unassuming, a perfect place,
Especially if someone was looking
To lay their head upon a
Pillow safe. It looked
To me like a way station,
Where a pilgrim could
Pause before proceeding…
Proceeding onward to heaven,
Carried up a golden
Staircase by gilded rays
Shining through
Clouds overhead.
This way station would
Serve as a rest stop for
One final smoothing
Of the edges of the soul,
Where one could sleep, pray,
And gather the energy
For one final push to
Return – – to where we all
Started and to where we are
All invited back to go.
Leo Carroll
November 7, 2019
Jewel
…And to think I was
Shown all this – – a breathless
View of heaven, of a
Wondrous portal into peace’s bliss – –
And lying below a little
Cottage, snuggled close
To earth like a
Supplicant, and
Me metaphorically
Cloistered its walls inside, from
Where prayers could be
Whispered and
Straight to God’s ears
Uninhibited fly…
Cottage
What is it about this
Little place, something familiar and
Secure I think…? Is it perhaps
I’ve been here once before, and
Under the tutelage of the
Healing Light was bathed
And brought forth?
Yes, I feel like I do
Know this place, simple as
It is – – and pure – – a
Cottage I would like,
No pretense allowed,
Just a hermitage
To house the silent
Prayers of the lame,
Sick, and halt…and those
Lost but mercifully
Now found…
Cottage Re-Visited
Could it be this little
Cottage is a microcosm of me,
A hermitage huddled at shores edge,
Hesitant to lift e’en its eyes,
Lest they be seen,
Hunkered down its head,
Its rooftop fast and secured,
But bathed, nevertheless, bathed,
Because Creation welcomes
Each pilgrim at its door?
One
Click for meditationRegarding "One"
I know of someone who
Always says, “Life is full of second
Chances!” What an upbeat,
Nice thing to hear in a
World full of crises, cries,
And stresses! And so
Recently I was on a
Visit to the state of
Washington, and while
There had the good
Fortune to visit a place
For rescued animals called,
“Second Chance Ranch.”
This is a ranch where
A menagerie of animals,
Mostly farm animals, is given
A home to live out their
Lives in well-cared-for
Circumstances.
It is a very uplifting
Place, staffed by gentle,
Kind-hearted people.
I toured all the animal
Enclosures there, and felt
Blessed in the experience.
One of the enclosures
I visited was for pigs.
It was there that I
Particularly got a good
Feeling, as if I was also being
Gifted a “second chance.”
A little pig rubbed
Up against my leg, and
I realized that all
Humanity was not
Exempt from the inside of
The ranch’s fences…
Leo Carroll
November 16, 2019
Found, at a
Ranch for animals lost,
A friend against
My knee to lean,
A creature accepting,
With me willing
To be seen…