Faces
Plover
Click for meditationRegarding "Plover"
In both the Old and the
New Testaments, the physical
Manifestation of God’s
Presence or approval was
Frequently seen in the
Form of a white dove, an
Absolutely meek, gentle
Metaphor for the innocence
And perfection of
Creation. But when I
Recently saw the
Photograph of a newly-
Born plover standing on the
Shore of Plum Island,
I felt that it, too, could be
Construed as another example
Of God’s blessed Word
And Work. The photograph
Was taken by a ranger at the
Parker River National
Wildlife Refuge in July 2020,
And to me captures an
Image of Creation as out of
The primordial waters
It first stepped onto the
Universe’s burnished sands.
Leo Carroll
September 16, 2020
In lieu of a dove,
Steps out of a cloud the milky
Apparition of a plover,
Every bit as innocent, every
Bit an equal emissary
And herald of heavenly Love,
This time not circling
Above the bank of the
River Jordan, but meekly
Standing Plum Island’s
Shore, where its feet on the
Sands by fresh grains
Are supported.
Someone Somewhere in Shadow
Click for meditationRegarding "Someone Somewhere in Shadow"
When I was recently at the
Service department of a local car
Dealership, I found myself
Standing at the service desk and
Discussing a problem with my
Car battery. And as I was doing this,
I saw out of the corner of my
Eye what appeared to be a statue…!
Strange it seemed! I then
Focused my gaze directly at the
“Statue,” and as the service
Manager continued to tell me
About some nuance of
My battery, I realized the statue
Was actually a young man!
He was standing perfectly still, his
Eyes locked on me, listening
To my discussion at the
Service desk. I cannot overstate
How completely immobilized
He was. He blended
Completely into the background
Around him. He was inert like a piece
Of furniture! And it came
To me that in his lifetime he
Must have regularly been
Viewed as such! His upper body
Was strong-appearing,
Muscular, but his lower body
Appeared undeveloped, almost
Without any dependable
Strength. He was supporting
Himself as he stood by two specially
Configured crutches. And a
Little while later when I
Saw him moving about, he was
Able to do so by swinging his
Upper body on the crutches…
Maneuvering by the grace of his
Sculpted chest, shoulders and arms.
How blessed I felt! And how also
Ashamed I felt to have taken for
Granted all that had been
Given to me in life! A bare hour
After I had first arrived, my
Battery problem was fixed
And I was on my way! When I last
Saw him, the young man with
The specially designed crutches was
Sitting in the waiting area for
His car. But to those seated around him,
I believe he was probably still
Invisible, just this time molded into
The contours of his chair, where
He remained immensely quiet and still.
I have since thought about the
Countless people who have crossed
My path in life, some of whom
Have had distinct physical or
Mental challenges, all nevertheless
An integral part of the human
Condition. They are a reminder to
Me of all I have been given, deeply
Flawed and imperfect as I am.
I have come to think of these
Revelatory moments as signposts,
Maybe even necessary advisory
Warnings about how fragile
My own life’s path is…spinning and
Tumbling as I am with everybody
Else in the seeming chaos of this universe,
And comes to my mind the old
Saying which I paraphrase,
“There but for the mystery of
Creation could go I.”
Leo Carroll
June 18, 2020
The corner of my left
Eye catches him standing there,
Like a statue stoic, but my
Senses tell me his breath is like
A living metaphor of the
Surrounding, fixed furniture.
Locked in silence he is,
Someone who could be
Construed as invisible if it was
Not for the slight heave in
His chest as his lungs
Reached for air, and as his
Ears attentively listened to what
I self-importantly described
Brought me here…
Blue Poppy
Click for meditationRegarding "Blue Poppy"
O’ how almighty science
And religion have grappled with the
Creation story of how we have
Come to be…but still the universe remains so
Unexplainable, so unimaginable, for
Our mere minds to grasp or comprehend
Or amongst ourselves agree…
I wonder about this, have daydreamed of it while lying in
A field of milkweed pod in Maine, or staring out
At some incoming tide on Plum Island
While blew a wild February spray,
And always my thoughts return to
What Is the real truth…? Some people say the
Universe is explained in the esoteric
Equations of mathematics, while others claim
The answer lies simply in the faith of
The world’s major religions, their ancient
Tenets long-entrenched in our minds by
Rote learning and fiat…But every
Once in a while I see something in
Nature which is as rational as any higher
Explanation…And thus spoke to me a
Pennsylvania blue poppy, caught in the act of
An explosion of Beauty, and whispering
With the authority of an ever-expanding bloom —
Hopefully mercifully on its way to my
Perception of somewhere…
Leo Carroll
May 9, 2020
In perfect Beauty,
As if giving birth from the womb in
The Creator’s amniotic choice of heavenly-blue,
An effusion of stardust is caught
Beginning its eternal journey
To the undefined reaches of
Somewhere, shot from the muzzle
Of a blue poppy and giving an
Alter-story to the Creation
Saga in Genesis, and also portraying the
Big Bang as more gentle than the
Sterile hardness of mathematics,
But more like the softness found in the
Underbelly of nature, as seen
In the silent authority of a flower
Speaking without fear.
Genesis
…And so, despite being
Sternly warned, Lot’s wife was
Turned into a pillar of salt
When she inexplicably looked back
At the very instant of
Sodom and Gomorrah’s
Annihilating destruction.
She was vaporized instantaneously
By a blinding flash beyond
All description, which ravaged
The land making it unrecognizable…
I have wondered if this infamous
Biblical story with all its
Wild imagery could somehow be
Applied to understanding
The importance of
Living in the present
Moment and not looking
Back at what we once
Had or knew in the past…
Because there is no surer way
For a heart to be hardened
And for lifeblood to be
Clotted and curdled
Than to excessively obsess
A real or perceived loss
Or unfortunate turn
Of events and to endure the
Ensuing fallout from the
Unbearable mourning
Or anger. We are intended to
Keep moving along our
Life’s path, just as Lot’s wife
Was admonished to do,
But she turned around — and
Thus she who was born of flesh of
The womb was transformed
Into immutable stone.
We likewise become lifeless
When we fixate upon
Something from our past,
Because, like it or not,
Our path is meant to be
Traveled, and stopping and
Looking back is an anathema
To Creation’s way of
Rounding, smoothing, and
Teaching us. In short, we cannot
Learn if we are frozen in
Time, and our eyes have become
Clothed in scales as if we
Stand motionless like a
Monument in Death Valley…
Morrill
Click for meditationRegarding "Morrill"
Every autumn for 21 years,
I went up to a cabin in the woods of
Morrill, Maine. It was a wonderful
Experience which I will never
Forget, and it is where I wrote scores
And scores of some of my
Favorite poetry. Seven years ago I
Took a sabbatical from going up,
But every fall I continued to
Feel the pull of the spiritual
Silence and majesty of those Maine
Woods. This autumn, after
My seven year hiatus, I
Returned for several nights
To those woods. It seemed a little
Strange for me, because
Although the woods appeared
Essentially the same, they
Did appear to have changed in
Subtle ways. It is hard
To explain. The more I have
Thought about this,
Though, the more I have
Come to realize that the true
Changes and differences
Were with me, and not the
Woods, and this is the theme of
All the poetry I wrote
While I was just up there. The
Poems try to put their
Finger on “something,” and the
“Something” is that the
Twenty one straight years
Were a distinct, unique period
In time, and performed a
Specific role in my life’s
Journey, and thus, when the
Woods and I saw each
Other again, we each took a
“Double-take” at each
Other – in pause and in
Shock – and I realized the truth
Of Thomas Wolfe’s saying,
“You can’t go home again,” and
Find either home and/or
Yourself the way things
Once were…
Leo Carroll
December 2, 2019
Ode to Morrill
You watch, waiting in
Silence, as if expecting I might
Have something to say, while I, in turn,
Watch you, thinking your
Branches to be both changed
And unchanged, your faces the same
Tho’ not the same…
Woods
Gray came up’n me,
Cold whipped the trunks of my soul,
Wind beat about me, and the
Woods whispered that “old” had crept
Into my snowy bones.
Moment
Still no movement, silence
Has even stopped…branches which are
Bent remain bent…branches
Which are straight guide my gaze
To their tops…
But then something flies
Chirping, and I would describe it if I
Could, but its feathers are
Too far away, and so I resume my
Autumn mood…
O, Angel of God
“O, Angel of God, my guardian dear…,”
And thus I begin my catechism’s
Childhood prayer, and then
In the silence, a distinct silence
Cold and white, a chorus rises up,
And chickadees alight…
Calling Out
“Where are you, Memory,
Where can I find you in the midst
Of this snowy field lying in
My mind and up’n this ground…?
Everything looks the same,
But my mind tells me
Something has changed…!”
Requiem
I returned to these woods to
Re-walk and live my old memories, and
Found some of them moved and
Wondered to where they
Might be keeping…?
And so I mused aloud,
“Is there not anything here
I can depend?!”
And then all my old
Haunts and shadows looked
O’er at me, and I knew
I had crossed the
Threshold to an e’er
Approaching requiem.