Peace
Snow-Cold Silence
Click for meditationRegarding "Snow-Cold Silence"
How
Crystal-perfect
Was that moment, as if time and the
Woods and all other
Things seemed to stand
Completely still,
Nothing moving, nothing
Stirring, utter quiet
Both within me
And outside of me,
And all while I inhaled
Snow-cold air,
An air telling me
Flakes were poised
To fall upon a
Landscape waiting,
Poised to be sipped like
Finest wine poured
From a golden
Goblet called late
Autumn in New
Hampshire.
Leo Carroll
July 30, 2019
Over me
Spreads an
Imperceptible
Yoke of
Silence,
Pushing shut
My eyes,
Despite all
My resistance
To being
Pious…
Nothing is
Moving now,
Not even an eyelash
Nor a leaf, not
Even sound, not
Even color,
Not even what
I believe…
Nothing is
Moving, as
Creation pauses
Before
Loosing the
First flake from
November’s
Heaven,
And between
Now and
Then, in
Awe asleep I
Am sent…
O Eternal Mother
(Ode to Primeval Stone Wall)
Click for meditationRegarding "O Eternal Mother"
What beautiful peace and
Comfort come to me when I recline
Against a stone wall, particularly
In autumn, when all my
Senses are on fire, and every
Nuance of every living and
Dead thing in the woods leaps
Out at me! It is the best time and
Place of the whole year
For me! Every poignant
Event in my life, every recurring
Memory, crawls out from
The crevasses in the
Stone wall I am resting
Against, and comes back
Gently before my heart. I
Feel melancholic, but I also
Feel blessed, because somehow
I have been gifted the
Magnificence of the stone wall
I am leaning against, and its
Wisdom and perseverance
Bring me the sure knowledge of
A listening ear and the
Prospect of an eternal,
New start…
Leo Carroll
May 24, 2018
Like a womb to me you are,
A place to curl against and to softly shut
My eyes, a place where I can feel
Warm and cradled, and a place where
Long ago hands can still humbly labor and
Lay their stones to bound their
Fields and farms and sighs…
Yes, all these centuries later, you
Still steadily run east-west towards and
Away from me, and each of
Your stones, mottled and so smooth,
Offers me a pillow in a bygone
Kindness I find courteous
And disarmingly beautiful…
Ah, I swoon, swoon…and I recline back at
Rest with you — found by autumn,
Unconditionally accepted, and all I have
To do is to daydream, because the
Work has long been done, and the cows
Called home, and the last croaking
Raven flown over the treetops into the
Twilight of the next hollow, and silence now
Alone sits with me as the beech and
Oak and spruce upon me look, and
Occasionally their leaves and
Needles nod to whatever it is they
Perceive…as sunshine dapples
With the shadows, and modulates my
Mood in consonance with the
Beating heart of Thee.
Deerfield’s Words
Click for meditationRegarding "Deerfield’s Words"
I love being in the
Woods, and I absolutely love
Looking for a stone wall
With a comfortable combination
Of rocks for my back
To lean against. My eyes
Have grown accustomed to
Quickly scanning the
Exterior facade of stone
Walls, and then zeroing in on
A section which looks
To be a good candidate
To sit on the ground
And nestle against.
The goal always is to
Blend into the wall as
Much as possible, and to
Become synonymous with the
Woods surrounding me.
On first impression, the woods
And wall may seem quiet
And still, but there is,
In fact, much to consider –
From how the light
Breaks through the trees,
The wind ruffles the
Autumn leaves, the spider
Crawls curiously on my
Shoulder, the chipmunk
Puffs up its brave
Chest and flexes its
Muscles, the chickadees
Stop by and occasionally brush
My cheek, the ever-present
Raven circles above,
The jay calls in the
Distance in annoyance
At something, and the
Eight Inch spruce sparkles
In newborn green…
All while I keep slightly
Shifting my position
And invariably manage
To fall asleep, and
During which the stone
Wall stoically ponders and
Wonders about me,
And the trunks of the
Trees in amazement
Peer over in strength, and
Shake their heads
At the degree of my
Weakness…
Leo Carroll
March 15, 2019
Searching for a Spot along an Old Stone Wall
I search, looking
For those perfect stones, as if
Made from a shop press,
Against which my
Back to lean, my body
To conform. I
Follow this wall, and
It keeps me on a
Heading east-west,
As if a farm horse by
The bridle, being led home
To its night’s rest…
And then through
The oaks and beeches
I see them — grey, rough
Stones, mottled in
Shades of black
And green lichen —
The sweet, autumn
Fruit of some
Builder’s tireless,
Calloused work,
Against which I’ll
Nestle, until is
Whispered what
Comes to be heard.
In the Woods against a Stone Wall
They sit as they’ve
Always sat – these woods as if
Jewels, as if decreed by
Primeval fiat. Oak and spruce
Stoically watch me in my
Every move and mood,
Content to leave me quiet if
I promise their wooden
Fiefdom not to disturb nor
Intrude. They watch
Me, reading my flesh’s
Mind and its flight, and
Then shake their heads slowly,
Because they know I
Have not yet mastered the
Fine art of sitting in a
Stone wall’s silence.
In Repose along an Old Stone Wall
Click for meditationRegarding "In Repose along an Old Stone Wall"
Sometimes
It does not take physical
Might to make
You feel safe. It can
Simply take the
Form of confidence in
Something Greater
Than you are,
Like an inviting yet
Sturdy,
Colonial-era
Stone wall…
And a tiny bird
Which has
Been singing for
Millennia…
Leo Carroll
April 17, 2018
I slept
The sleep of beauty rest,
Against the rough-hewn
Pillows of a stone wall’s bed.
Shut my eyes were, as if
In blessed Gethsemane, and open
Them I verily could not —
So relied upon a lone chickadee
In a nearby spruce tree
As sentry.
Coming into ‘Warrior One’ Position
Click for meditationRegarding "Coming into ‘Warrior One’ Position"
On the day of this
Poem, I realized that yoga
Was a great, universal equalizer
And communicator
Amongst peoples.
As I moved from yoga
Pose to yoga pose,
I became cognizant of the
Different shades and
Hues of all the bare feet
Which were constantly
Shifting in position before my eyes
On the wooden floor,
And which were mixing
With the sweat of
Past yoga classes in a
Combined genuflection to
The common mother
We all shared…
The clay of humankind
Was at work right
In front of me,
And the sole goal
Of this amalgam
Of flesh was to find
Peace in this little niche
Of heaven with the
Door quietly closed against
The distractions of the
Outside world.
All it took was to
Breathe, to concentrate
In the present
Moment with the
Instructor’s gentle
Commands, to do
My best, to seek balance
In my movements,
And to know that
I was not being judged,
But just seeking a
Better way to be alive.
Leo Carroll
May 3, 2018
Up to Warrior One from
Downward Facing Dog I come,
Struggling with my footing,
In movements slow and stiff and
Cumbersome. Up, up, finally I
Right myself into this pose,
With my arms reaching for the
Heavens, as if in entreating
Praise to some Unknown.
But in that last, fleeting
Second before I reached
Myself so skyward, my
Eyes still were locked
To earth, and in that
Timeless instant were
Imprinted like a child’s.
For in a glance across the
Wooden floor, I saw a wide
Swath of anonymous feet of all
Shapes and hues, and this
Amalgam of flesh shouted out,
“This is what I show you,
And it is yoga’s universal,
Common good and truth…!”
And in that one sentence, I
Realized how humanity’s clay
Could be divine…and I
Knew my arms reached up
To touch — the cloth of a
Far Greater Rhyme.