Hope
Matthew 7: 13-14
“Halt, who goes there!?”
“It is I, a simple pilgrim!”
“State your business!”
“I am lost. I am looking for my
Lord and Savior.”
Wafer
Click for meditationRegarding "Wafer"
In the Old Testament,
In the Book of Genesis, is found
The Creation story. Yes, it is a
Simple story, but it speaks
As a tome of eternal Truth – that in
Some mysterious way, the
Earth came into being and was
Populated with humans (“creatures”) and
Plants and animals and birds
And fishes and all else living…
All things in Creation were
Described as complementing each
Oth’r. A simple story, but oh so
Complicated! Then fast forward to the
New Testament in which Jesus
Is revealed as the Son of
God, the Son of the very Creator in
The Old Testament Who saw
All He had made after six days and
Declared it to be “very good!”
And in the New Testament, it was
Jesus Who restored the beauty
Of Creation’s original goodness and work!
In Revelation 21:5, Jesus exclaimed,
“Behold, I make all things new!”
And in a way this was re-
Affirmed to me recently, when
I saw a yellow maple leaf
Lying up’n a geranium like a
Wafer up’n a tongue in Holy Communion,
The brotherhood of the New
Covenant in consonance with the
Supporting structure of the
Prophets and the Law of Moses
Of the Old Covenant.
Leo Carroll
December 1, 2021
A single, yellow
Maple leaf, lying lightly like a
Communion wafer on
The sheen of a geranium
Green and meek,
Resting as if waiting
Up’n the tongue of the
Plant to receive it,
But the geranium was
Paused, wanting to savor
What was bought in
Gethsemane, in the dark of
That Garden at such
Great cost…
Christmas
Click for meditationRegarding "Christmas"
Sometimes
My mind is unable to rest,
As if it was on its own
Independent mission, and
I was along for the
Ride as an involuntary,
E’en unwelcome
Guest…My mind can
Seem like it is freewheeling
With its neurons running
Wild on pathways
Forming new synapses…!
But somehow on
Christmas Eve, Something
Greater Than I laid
Down the gauntlet for
Me to hush, and my mind
Slowed down as if it
Pulled off a rural
Exit ramp, and I exhaled
A big breath as a child
Born 2000 years ago once
More let out its first
Cry, and the attending
Animals stretched out
In awe beneath the winter’s
Night’s sky…
Leo Carroll
December 29, 2020
No poem cometh…and
Momentarily I am
Mute in the
Silence…and e’en
My unharnessed thoughts
Are made to be
Bridled and to bow,
As my mind recuses
Itself before the
Awe of today’s humble
Majesty, and I realize
To do nothing is
All I am allowed.
Light in Dark
Click for meditationRegarding "Light in Dark"
I once read “art is creation.”
I cannot recall the name
Of the person who first said it,
But I believe the statement
To be true. And if art
Is creation, then in an
Infinitesimally small way,
Art contributes to the
Ongoing creation process of
The Big Bang…And so
In this context I continue
To write, actually more than
Usual in this time of Covid,
Because nothing can
Overcome the original
Creative power of the
Source of Creation!
And if art has been given
To me, even in the most
Insignificant of ways,
I can carry it in front of me
As an amulet of light –
To ward off the serpentine,
Evil forces of Covid’s
Dark and gloom.
Leo Carroll
December 20, 2020
Every night
I light my lights, and
Make my rounds
The dark despite,
And every
Night, room to
Room, into
The corners I peer
To illum…
Tug Boat Christmas
Click for meditationRegarding "Tug Boat Christmas"
Lingering in the back of
My mind was a photograph I had
Seen some time ago. It was
Of a simple tugboat tied up in 2018
In Boothbay Harbor, Maine,
With a Christmas wreath
Adorning its cabin door.
I finally decided to write a poem
About this photograph,
To relieve the pall cast over
Me by Covid, and to
Celebrate something which
Was a total antithesis
To the somber mood draping
In black bunting over Christmas
And Hanukkah and other
Spiritual and secular holidays.
And so this poem portrays
A crimson-red cabin door,
Obviously a bit worn for wear,
But yet clearly well
Cared for over the years,
And hanging on this door is a
Christmas wreath, which
Hardened sea hands had
Hung just two years ago, when
Hope was the unequivocal
“Jingle bell” of the holiday season.
Leo Carroll
December 11, 2020
Crimson-red, peeling, but
Not too old yet, a buttress against
What needs to be outside kept,
An entry for what inside
Can be let, a door, layered and
Lathered in lovingly applied
Strokes, a porthole to
Safely look out in a howling
Sea, and at the same
Time to be opened for
Wondrous eyes, in hopes
Of catching St. Nick at work after
Hanging his Christmas wreath.