Mood
Releasing
Click for meditationRegarding "Releasing"
This poem is a
Metaphor for when one of my
Daughters was getting
Ready to relocate
To New York City to
Pursue the next
Phase of her life.
What a wonderful and
Thoughtful daughter she
Had been, and still is…
At the time, I was filled with
All sorts of strong
Emotions, as I realized she
Was leaving the home for good.
In a way, it was as if I
Was reliving the emotions of
Teyve, the father of
Five daughters in
Imperial Russia, in the
Great movie and Broadway play,
“Fiddler on the Roof.”
All had been done
To raise my daughter, but
In my mind she still
Danced and twirled as
A small girl…
But now it was
Time to let her go…
Releasing is never easy.
It can be painful
And very sad, but life
Has to continue in its fragile
Form and flight, like a
‘Julia Longwing’ butterfly
Lifting off from cupped hands,
And then watching its
Loving climb…
Leo Carroll
May 30, 2018
Good-bye, my butterfly,
My hands are cupped to lift your ride.
Bye-bye, my butterfly,
My eyes are raised to watch your climb.
Good-bye, my butterfly,
Lo may you land ‘neath loving sky.
Ode to Dromod’s Field
Click for meditationRegarding "Ode to Dromod’s Field"
In September 2000, two of
My daughters went to Ireland, and
While there visited a cemetery
In County Kerry where some of the
Forebears of my father’s family were buried.
My daughters asked me if I wanted
To accompany them. I told them,
“No,” that I was busy with other
Things I was doing. They persisted in
Asking me. I persisted in
Saying, “no.” And so they went
Alone, to traverse the land
Where four generations before
Some of my ancestors had
Left Ireland. I should have gone.
I knew it even before they
Returned. I could tell in their
Voices over the international
Telephone lines that they
Had touched something
Like a heartbeat or the flesh
Of a palm no longer heard or felt.
I saw the photos when they returned,
And my eyes were overwhelmed
By the power of the images.
And so I came to write this poem of
A burial ground in Dromod, County Kerry,
Which saw the faces of my
Daughters, and in seeing their
Features, saw mine, too…as well as
The likenesses of their sons
And daughters who had left
Long generations before.
Leo Carroll
September 3, 2018
Upon your stones we move about, in
Prayerful search ‘midst this wheat throughout.
We never knew ye, but feel sure, you
Watch us tread this earthen floor.
From thy loins sprang Dromod seed, a
Comely fruit and sweet-isle mead.
These sons and daughters cupped your
Hand, kissed it gently, then sailed your land.
Lo years later, with them long gone,
You see us now as we part these thorns.
We’ve come to say we love you, too, and
Brush these stones etched in dew.
For as we spread these weeds grown
Wild, you see our faces and ken our smiles.
On our faces, likened clear, are the long
Ago images of your children dear.
Know ye then, people of yore, we’ve
Come to sit your lap once more.
Against your breast we commune and sleep, safe
In the warmth your field doth keep.
Almost
Click for meditationRegarding "Almost"
Someday
I’ll walk through
That thicket,
Someday, when
My time has
Come, and I’ve
Taken my
Last compass
Reading along
A stone wall
Where I am welcome.
Ah, to enter…
I think I will know
The time when to take
That final step…
I’ll just merge with
The overcast
Of the day,
And step through
Into another
Wood, and it
Will look exactly
Like this wood,
The same,
Except on the
Other side I will
Know of the
People I meet — far
More names.
Leo Carroll
June 4, 2018
Never could be
Found me,
If I truly
Wanted to
Quietly
Disappear
Into this
Maine
Thicket.
Just a few
Further steps
And I would
Be gone,
As if I passed
Through a
Veil’s
Smoky
Mirror, and
Last seen
Of me was
Only a fading
Wisp.