Pilgrim’s Path
Prayer
Click for meditationRegarding "Prayer"
So many gifts have
Been given me, but so many
Of these I have let slip
Past me, through my
Fingers, whether
Unnoticed, overlooked,
Or taken for granted.
I am painfully aware of
My stumbles along my pilgrim’s
Path, but seldom have I
Seen the treasures
Offered to me as petals
To re-assure my feet.
Lupines, sweet lupines, are
In that category of
Innocent palliatives,
And I thank the
Photographer who
Took the picture which
Reminds that heaven
Is lined with unimaginable,
Beautiful simplicity,
And on this blessed planet
Its here starts.
Leo Carroll
July 11, 2019
Lead me to where the
Lupines live, and gladly amongst
Them I’ll lie, with purple
Pall bearers in phalanx
Around me, and their pointed
Petals as gentle shields,
Poised against all which would
Unsettle my mind…
Daffodils
Click for meditationRegarding "Daffodils"
It came to me
That my own pilgrim’s path
Resembles the
Seasonal flow of my
Garden in a four-part act, with
The fresh growth of
Springtime’s hope and
Rebirth akin to my
Ever-evolving
Renewal, followed
By the endurance
Required in the summer
Heat of July…a
Metaphor for the
Endless twists and turns of
The human condition
As it sits the beach of
Low and high tides…
And then the final
Burst of color and beauty
In autumn, before
Plunging again
Into the deep sleep
Of winter, only to
Arise again in April,
Pointed and poised to
Resume my journey,
But always bowed by the
Growing pains of
Bloom in my
Season of change…
Leo Carroll
May 7, 2019
…One of the first
Fruits of spring — daffodils
Buttery-yellow and
Dangling from the
Ear lobes of morning —
And at their feet
In fealty, the remnants of a
Once-magnificent,
Autumn leaf, placed by
Winter’s wind and
Now a companion
And witness to
The fresh shoots
Of daylilies green,
And all of these
Stirrings staring into
The stoic eyes of
Garden stones, the
Singular thread
Stitching together
My rock garden
As my shifting
Seasons unfold…
Vermont Morning
Click for meditationRegarding "Vermont Morning"
And so when a woman
Recently showed me a photograph
Of her palms cradling a
Little bat in Vermont,
I was taken aback. She was
Supporting the creature
As if on the softest
Throne of white mittens.
I knew this was a special
Woman. She had found the bat
Asleep on a wall in her
Vermont home one morning, and
Had taken pity on it.
If she had been a member
Of the Jainism religious
Sect in India, which
Practices non violence
Against all living beings, she
Could not have been more loving.
She handled the bat as if
She was presenting the
The long lost treasure
Of the Knights Templar.
The photo of the bat
In her palms was taken
About 10-15 years ago,
And yet she still carried it
With her as if it was
A sacred, holy relic, and
When she showed it to me,
I was able to peer into
The simplicity and
Compassion of her soul.
Leo Carroll
February 16, 2019
Who else in knitted, mitten-white
Palms would e’er cradle a
Tiny, helpless bat in hopes to keep
The scared creature calm?
Very few people would … only
Someone who had herself been lost, and
Thus recognized the cry when
The morning sun wafted it across.
Strange Day
Click for meditationRegarding "Strange Day"
Sometimes we can find
Ourselves in a place or state of mind
Which seems ‘different.’
Such a thing happened to
Me several weeks ago
When I went to a meeting
In Weston. I no sooner
Took the exit off Route 95 South
Onto Route 30 West and
I seemed to immediately enter
A different sensory world.
The traffic lights at
The top of the exit ramp
Were not working, and the
Number of cars on the
Road seemed eerily
Light. I eventually found
The address for which I
Was searching, but the weird
Wind and rain were no
Help! As I walked up the
Steps to the building,
I realized something
Was amiss because some
Sort of alarm system on the
Premises was beeping.
I tentatively opened the door and
Went into the foyer, and
There was more of the same.
People on the first floor
Seemed oddly subdued, and
It was then I heard the
Hum of a generator
Running – but not for the
Whole building, but just the
Offices on the first floor.
The elevators were not working,
And so I took the staircase
To the next floor, where
I came upon a waiting room
Where people were talking in
Whispers … Hmmm …
They politely pointed
Me to where I should sit,
And it was then I became aware of
Fire, police, and ambulance
Sounds on the roadway
Below the window.
Then a tree across the
Street crashed down, and
Was accompanied by the
Wind rattling uneasily on a
Nearby window pane,
All, remarkably, giving me an
Impression of events occurring in
Hues of black and white …
Thus, when later at my
Appointment, a person
Observed, “Strange day,”
Indicating to her, too, that
Things seemed out of whack,
All I could manage was,
“Yes, something surreal,” and
Thus it was and thus it
Still remains now –
Where was I really? Only
The wind and rain and
Swinging traffic lights
And building alarms and fire and
Police sirens and people whispering
Knew what time and place
My confused senses
And bearings had stumbled
‘Strangely’ upon. The only
Thing I can confirm is it occurred at
Exit 24 off of Route 95,
But even more ‘strangely’ –
I still felt and feel I belonged there
On my path to somewhere …
Leo Carroll
February 7, 2019
“Strange day,”
She says, and immediately
I agree, Yes, something surreal, but
Did the ‘strangeness’
Come from the day seeming
To be tinted in hues of
Black and white, or was
It the unstable, out-of-season
Tropical weather, or the
Malfunctioning traffic lights,
Or this building I am in
Shrouded in darkness
With a buzzer endlessly
Sounding in despair, or
The fire engine sirens
Coming closer from afar, or
The police lights flashing
Across the street, or an
Ambulance going by as if
From something fleeing, or
People in a nearby waiting room
Talking in whispers, or the
Wind curious and nibbling
At the window panes,
Or the thumping ‘bam’
Of a tree falling in the
Woods across the way!?
Yes, indeed, a very
“Strange day,” but for me
In this place, this life,
This time, just another further
Step along my journey
Without cessation.
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 …”