Duty
Contemplating the Color of His Sacrifice
Sitting here,
The solitude around me
Is not just without sound. Its
Silence is painted
In blends of blood-red,
With nail holes and a
Spear puncture
Still softly oozing the
Aftermath of my sins, lo
Two millennia now His cruel
Calvary death, and
Even further back to when
The Serpent forked
Its tongue, and
Adam and Eve were
Cast outside the walls of
Eden’s heaven.
Outside Elizabeth’s Door
(Psalm 91)
And thus they spent
The whole night
Sheltering under God’s
Sweet wings, burrowed deeply
Into His bosom, taking
Refuge in His pure
Petals from whatever the night
Demanded or would
Bring … thus glorious and
Pre-ordained, an
Hydrangea innately served
By instinct, knowing
Since the seven days of
Creation, Yahweh
Had deemed it His proxy, to be
A safe shield for bees.
Stone Angels
Click for meditationRegarding "Stone Angels"
Recently, I was asked
To write a poem which had to
Include ten random words
Given to me. I normally would
Never have considered
Anything like that, but this
Request was part of an exercise in
A training session I was
Taking. And so I consented!
The words given me were,
“Trickle,” “alone,” “gently,”
“Mirrored,” “playfully,”
“Sleeping,” “dignified,” “healing,”
“Sacredness,” and “doors.”
As I was reflecting on
These ten words, I penned
Almost absentmindedly
What would turn out to be
The opening verse of the poem,
“Stone Angels.” With that
One verse, I knew instinctively I
Could complete the poem!
And so thus it unfolded
As naturally as stream
Waters polishing stones!
Each word, in fact, a stone!
Looking back at the
Genesis of this writing
Project and the resulting
Poem, I have no doubt
The muse or, better said, the
Holy Spirit as the muse,
Was the initiator. Because
When I first saw the poem on
My computer screen, I
Sensed it felt like the work of
A Higher Power. Not only
Did the ten words flow easily and
Unimpeded, but all the
Other words in the poem
Did as well, all fitting
Comfortably together
Like stones in a stream bed,
And touching something
Deep and very dear inside me…
Something looking for an
Outlet, an expression, an
Explanation, an understanding of
The confluence of my life –
Its purpose, its finish,
Something which spoke of
Hope and eternal rest
At the end of my path.
The ten words given to me
Are as if tumbled or
Smoothed by the running
Waters of the accompanying
Photograph, and the
Entire visual layout of the
Poem reflects their encoded
Place in Creation’s eternal
Stream bed, and is a
Metaphor for God’s mercy,
Even when the siren
Call of duty seemed to have
Randomly cast its net
And ensnared me all alone.
Leo Carroll
May 8, 2022
I first hear the trickle of
The brook long before I am able
To see it, swaddled as I
Am in this womb of beautiful
Autumn aspens, dreamily
Hiking towards a vale
I have never visited before,
But now from the murmur of the
Brook knowing my arrival
Is at hand. I listen to the
Brook running over stones,
Gently, almost playfully, but in a
Manner respecting their
Dignified demeanor and
Sacredness, because these
Stones once hung dutifully as
Guardian angels over the
Doors to the hearts of humans,
And are now themselves
Laid at rest in these loving
Waters – waters where they, too,
Can recline and experience
Healing and protection,
Comforted by the harmony of
Being with other similar
Stones, all of whom now
Gazing blissfully into each
Other’s faces as if cuddling or
Sleeping, and realizing in
This cemetery of mirrored
Reflections that they did not live
All these eons alone…
Eucharistic Adoration
Click for meditationRegarding "Eucharistic Adoration"
There is the well known
Account described in the Gospels
Where Jesus is on His knees
In the Garden of Gethsemane,
Praying that if it’s in His Father’s
Will, to have the cup of His
Crucifixion removed from His lips.
According to the Gospels,
Jesus in His anguish sweat blood,
Such was the unfathomable
Distress He was feeling.
He asked His disciples who
Were with Him to stay awake
And to pray with Him. Try as
They might, however, none
Of his disciples were able to do
This, such was the over-
Whelming crush of emotion
Weighing upon them. And then
I think of all the times
That I, too, have not been
Able to keep Jesus company…
And I then slide under the
Waves of my life, wishing I had
Not judged so harsh…
Leo Carroll
December 23, 2021
In the Presence of You
My eyes want to close,
O Lord, but You already know that,
Having sadly seen my face and
Noticed nothing over the past
Two thousand years has
Really ever changed – it is still
Too difficult for me to kneel
And to accompany You in
This alter-Gethsemane of
A simple church’s pew.
So patient with me You are!
But after all these millennia, I still
Cannot keep my eyes open,
Such is the effect of Your yoke’s
Light weight upon my eyelids
Up-and-down motion.
Leo Carroll
December 14, 2021
St. Anne’s Church
Littleton, Massachusetts
Musing
Lord, are You really
Enclosed within that luna
Which safe-keeps and
Cradles the host
Inside its glass, does
Your unimaginable Lordship
Reign meekly within
The monstrance
As if the consecrated
Bread was a mustard seed
Onto good soil about
To be cast? O please help me
To remain prayerfully
In front of You,
Sweet Lord! I am so
Used to restlessly
Shifting and moving like
The wild man who
Ran out from the burial
Caves, his chains
Broken and dangling,
Of You terrorized, afraid.
Ode to Lord
You observe me in Your
Pervasive “I AM WHO I AM” presence,
Never letting me go, while I, in my
Earthly obliviousness and
Nonchalance, am
Protected by You
Beneath the wing of Your
Sweet shadow. Why,
O Lord, why do You so
Faithfully suffer my
Abandonment of You?
I have far, far surpassed the
‘Three times’ before the cock in
The courtyard crowed…