Faith
Embedded I Am
Click for meditationRegarding "Embedded I Am"
When I write, when
I garden, I become my poetry, I
Become my garden. I am
Synonymous with my
Verse and stanza,
I am synonymous with
The placement and choice
And color of my plants
And flowers.
I become what
I am creating, always
Evolving, editing, pruning,
Shaping, like someone on a
Pilgrim’s path, always
Influenced by the
Surprises, twists, and
Turns of what
Life has chosen to
Present. My poetry is
As if by the tides
Being polished,
My gardens are
Always being tilled,
And in God’s image
I am being rhythmically
Smoothed and
Rounded until …
Leo Carroll
July 17, 2019
Embedded I am, fitted
Like a puzzle piece into my garden,
Comfortable, under the
Sweet shade of a day lily and
On the sheltered side of
A leafy hosta’s pardon.
Love
Click for meditationRegarding "Love"
I was recently sitting
In a waiting room in Stoneham and
Listening for my name to be
Called for my ophthalmology
Examination. It is still not clear to
Me what happened next,
But I sensed someone was
Standing in front of me and
Staring at me. I raised
My head slowly to look up,
And there was this little
Boy, perhaps six or seven years
Old, and he had a smile
On his face. As soon as our
Eyes connected, he said
Something quickly to me which
Came out in a burst, like a
Digital stream of binary
Information. I could not
Understand a word of it,
But whatever he said, it was
Obviously important to him from
His facial earnestness looking at me.
Before I had a chance to
Respond, however, a young woman
Quietly appeared beside him,
Gently took his hand,
And as she started to
Turn to lead him back to a
Chair in the waiting room,
She gave me a knowing nod,
As if to convey she knew
That for a few seconds
Her son and I had connected in a
Mysterious, spiritual bond.
Leo Carroll
February 20, 2019
I feel his presence before
I see him, a young boy perhaps six
Years old who now stands several feet
In front of me, almost as if an
Apparition he so suddenly appears,
Like a rush of wind and then the
Paraclete’s breath upon my face,
And he smiles but his attempt
To speak is garbled and unintelligible —
At least in a worldly way that I can
Understand — and then his mother
Walks up softly and takes hold his hand,
And gently leads him away to
A seat in the waiting room’s
Sheepfold … while I in my
Chair am left wondering in
Awe of the message spoken by his
Incomprehensible words, and
Why he had picked me to be
Culled from out of the herd to
Hear his vocal cords struggle
In stanza and verse?
Isaiah 55: 8
Matthew 11: 28-30
Click for meditationRegarding "Isaiah 55: 8
Matthew 11: 28-30"
So many times with
Life I have arm wrestled, when it
Would have made far better
Sense to relent, to relax, and to
Go with the inevitable flow of
Circumstances around me …
How many things in life
Are truly important?
How many things really
Demand a claim of victory?
The older I have gotten,
The fewer and fewer things I
Have offered in answer …
Everything cannot
Be important, and as it
Turns out, not much actually is.
What is important, though,
Is to look around and be
Aware of the bountiful
Blessings available to each of us.
Every day and in every way,
Nature speaks. Beauty is
The de facto, eternal
Word of God, just
Like a lamb grazing,
Accepting what is in front
Of its face, freely-begotten,
Wonderful to the taste, in a
Pasture, in a green, well-watered,
Sheltered space.
Leo Carroll
January 7, 2019
“It is better to be
A lamb than a lion,”
Enters like a
Sweet zephyr into
My whirling
Subconscious,
And then added
For emphasis,
“My yoke rests
Easier on fleece
Than the wild mane of
Your flesh …”
Storm at Dawn
Click for meditationRegarding "Storm at Dawn"
It does not take
Much to remind us we are
Separated from the cave
Mouth by only the
Slimmest and
Barest of margins…
All it requires is a
Frightening or terrorizing
Storm or natural
Disaster to reinforce
How tenuous
Everything is in this
Technologically-smug
Society. Witness
The severe 2018 volcanic
Eruption in Hawaii
Or the recent hurricanes,
Sandy and Katrina.
We are at the mercy of
Forces far beyond
What we could ever
Imagine. And so, again for the
Countless time in my
Life, I saw the
Shocking power
Of Mother Nature
Roll up before
My eyes, when a
Tremendous
Storm blew in
When I was spending
The night on Washington
State’s beautiful
Whidbey Island.
No place is exempt
From terror – not
Even heaven!!
Leo Carroll
June 1, 2018
First the wind I hear, and
Then starts the driving rain in sheets against the
Siding of this sturdy, island home, and
So out to sea I cast my eyes, and
There the primordial story of a November
Storm unfolds…and it is of a high
Tide being whipped into a lather
Against the flank of a black, gray dawn.
All this is soon displayed as an
Endless stream of white-capped waves
Beating against the bulwark of
What man has made, and
Naught is to be done to
Calm and hold it all back,
Except, that is, to pray and
Wait and see, because the hounds
This morning have been
Loosed, and the
Master-of-the-Morning
Has set in motion a
Mariner’s klaxon, and two
Neighboring American flags are
Pointed straight-out
By a monster wind
From out of the south, and
Their tattered threads hurtle towards
Wherever people go when left
With only faith or hope
As their last redoubt.
Mercy
Click for meditationRegarding "Mercy"
To me, the most important
Thing about being
At the beach is
That when I walk to
The water’s edge, I
Feel I am in the undoubted
Presence of Creation.
This is what I feel
In my heart,
And so, therefore,
I have the urge to touch
The waves and to be
Touched by them…
I always get down onto
One knee, usually
In shallow water,
And scoop my
Hands into the
Surf and then throw
It onto my face — over and
Over — as if I cannot
Get enough of the
Salt water. It is
An absolute blessing, and I
Have the sensation that
I am touching the
Hem of God.
There is nothing
In my life at that moment
That cannot be
Healed or helped.
I am at the original
Baptismal font, and I
Am at the Mouth and Mother
Of the River Jordan.
Leo Carroll
May 7, 2018
Down I reach
On one wet knee,
Hoping for the right wave
My cupped hands to
Greet. O, how I
Love this cold surf, this
Fresh compress to
My face, this
Blessed touch by
Something Greater,
My thirst to
Gratefully slake!
“Boom!” each
Wave about me crashes,
My hands held to
Their salty lips, as each
One of them
Approaches…and
On beach stones in foam
Kisses.