Peace
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.
The Kingdom of God
Click for meditationRegarding "The Kingdom of God"
The Kingdom of God,
That elusive, mysterious place of peace
Inside me, a place repeatedly
Referenced in the Gospels,
Has the potential to
Be so many things, and have
So many interpretations…
I meditate upon this, and sometimes
Feel in a flash of insight
That I have determined its
True meaning, and then in a likewise flash
It is lost, gone, like a lamb from the
Sheepfold, but then again
Found in the dark and cold of night,
And carried back on the
Strong shoulders of much clearer,
Simpler thought…
Leo Carroll
July 8, 2018
What kind of Kingdom
Within me exists?
Is it a Kingdom of
Softest fleece, impregnable
To the molten lava
Of anxiety’s Vesuvius?
Or,
Is it a Kingdom
Whose genesis is even
Smaller than a tiny
Mustard seed, and waits to
Be watered to
Bloom into beauty?
Or,
Is it a Kingdom
Which proclaims I am like
A lamb inside the
Sheepfold, protected by
A shepherd who knew me before
I was known?
Near the Quicksand Swamp
Click for meditationRegarding "Near the Quicksand Swamp"
One afternoon,
On a surprisingly balmy
Autumn day in the
Woods of Maine,
I laid onto my back,
And on a large, flat stone
Just dreamily gazed
Up at the tops of
Pine trees which were
Lightly swaying and
Letting loose
Their needles in
A wondrous display.
It was incredibly
Peaceful. A shower
Of pine needles was landing
Atop and all around
Me, and it was
As if I was receiving a
Genuine blessing
From the hand
Of Mother Nature,
Freely given and
In its gentleness
Amazing…and then
It passed…left…as if a
Wand had mysteriously
Crossed over me,
And my understanding
Of what the woods
Was speaking faded —
Behind a veil to
Someday be parted,
When I rest again
So easily…
Leo Carroll
June 21, 2018
For one brief moment, I
Felt I understood the woods. It came when a
Little breeze blew, and I saw pine
Trees their shoulders shrug
And their needles let loose…and then it
Was gone, my understanding
Fleeting like the precious breeze…
And I was left staring up at
Floating pine needles – but their descent
Again a forest mystery.