Duty
O Maple Tree
Click for meditationRegarding "O Maple Tree"
Every year I am
Susceptible to the whims of
Autumnal melancholy. Whether it
Is due to the falling leaves
Delivering an emphatic
Message of earthly
Impermanence, and
Rekindling within me the
Furies of things I would re-do
Differently, or the
Good things I have
Known and are now no
More, or something else…
But in its final gasps of
Change, fall is spectacularly
Beautiful and comforting – – setting an
Unmatchable standard of self
Sacrifice and duty, right
Up to the last leaves to fall and
The final glimpses of their
Wonderful, fading glory,
Particularly if I had kneeled
Down over them and
Was marveling how their
Plentitude must rival
The stunning miracle of the
Loaves and fishes as
They once laid multiplied
And displayed near the
Sea of Galilee.
Leo Carroll
November 21, 2021
O maple tree, your
Leaves lie crinkled beneath
My knees, but their
Yellow tatters still speak
In little whispers
Of warmth and love,
The kind that autumn
Spawns, tho’ it be “change”
In its goodbye hug.
Crosscurrents
Buffeted and
Battered I am, caught between
Crosscurrents raging and
Frothing from God
And my flesh’s rogue self…
This as I try to navigate
Betwixt beguiling, siren
Songs, and the beautiful
Imperatives from
Buoys to hold steadfast
And strong…
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…!
Silence
Click for meditationRegarding "Silence"
So rare is silence…
It’s almost as if we are afraid
Of it, and run from it,
Preferring the comfort of
Being around noise,
Rather than to have to think,
To have to consider who
We really are and the
Purpose of our existence in a
Universe too immense
And chaotic to understand.
There is a saying,
“God is in the silence.”
It speaks of the precious,
Divine nature of silence and
Its ability to heal and foster prayer.
In the Gospels, Jesus would
Always seek a quiet place to pray.
In the minds of Believers,
Yahweh was able to be
Heard above the roar of the
Big Bang in Genesis, such was the
Greatness of His almighty
Voice! Yet lo billions of
Years later, as galaxies still
Scream outward and expand the
Boundaries of the Universe,
God can be found meekly
In the sights and sounds of all
That composes His Creation,
Such as the birds of the air,
The grasses in the wind,
The gurgle of streams, and all
Else patiently calling us to
A state of calm and
Peace within. Silence is
So quiet, but yet is so
Profound, that its presence
Can supersede the din
That all human minds
And mouths can pour into
A dry fountain. When I
Was recently in Maine, the
Silence re-awakened
Some musings which I
Always associate and find
Poignant with my visits to Maine.
The same silence, however,
Also brought assurance
In the wizened croaks of a raven –
And I knew God in mystery
And mercy was present in my
Moods! In short, silence
Can not only evoke or activate a
Wellspring of feelings that
Noise would mask, but silence
Can also teach us that in
The crosscurrents of the Universe
The Omniscient presence
Of God (“I Am”) can assuage any
Desert loneliness running
Wild in the swirling sands.
Leo Carroll
August 25, 2020
Mood
“O, I am so missing you,”
I muse, sighing inaudibly while
Contemplating a solitary
Spruce through the window
Of my mood. “How can you be the
Other side of this glass,
Here now, here last year, and
Next if I so last…?”
Leo Carroll
August 17, 2020
Bristol, Maine
Finding
God can be found
In the silence, in the voices of the
Grasses and the birds and
The wind… gone now are His
Booming chords of First Day,
When ’twas necessary to shout
Above the cacophony of the roar and
The blast with, “Amen!”
Leo Carroll
August 18, 2020
Bristol, Maine
Saying Goodbye
A raven bugles in two,
Maybe three quick croaks…
While reverently stands
Ramrod-straight a little spruce, its
Duty to listen, as if no
Oth’r ears were interested
Enough to be open…
Leo Carroll
August 23, 2020
Bristol, Maine
Stone Wall and Flowers
Click for meditationRegarding "Stone Wall and Flowers"
Some weeks ago,
I was sitting beside the bed of a
Woman who was in hospice.
She has since passed away.
We were quietly talking, and
She was very reflective.
Out of the blue, she said
There were “two things” about
“Beauty” which were “important” to her…
She went on to say that
The hardness of a stone wall was
One of them, and that it was
Only equaled by the exquisite
Softness of the earth which
Nestled silently at its base.
She then continued, saying that
When looking up’n a stone
Wall, it was easy to become
Fixated on the wall’s strength and
Reliability and endurance,
But to overlook the softness
And gentleness of the
Grace resting at its feet – the
Meek grass, the wondrous
Autumn leaves, and the indomitable
Wild flowers. As I listened to her
Observations, I was taken
Aback, because although I
Had always loved stone walls and
Had written about them for
Decades, I had missed the
Complementary way in which
They blended into their environment…
That is, that duty (as represented
In the solid face of the wall)
Could not endure over a long
Period of time without the relief
Of a soft shoulder of love to
Lean and weep up’n. …
Leo Carroll
March 31, 2020
Against the stone wall
She gently placed some flow’rs, to
Complement the wall’s
Hardness in answering
The call to duty and honor…
And thus the wall
Finally genuflected, ne’er
Before having been
Brought to its knee…
Until a humble woman by
Her kind act — showed
That e’en valor needed the
Softness of beauty.