Pilgrim’s Path
Looking towards Sand Beach and Beyond…
Click for meditationRegarding "Looking towards Sand Beach and Beyond…"
I frequently
Speak about my
Pilgrim’s path, the
Trail I’m on as
My youth learns
It won’t last.
The longer I live,
The closer I am to dying,
And the more I hope
My path has
Somehow
More time…
And so I muse if
I might have
Multiple, serial
Forms of existence?
I must, such is
The staggering
Amount of
My shaping and
Smoothing yet
To be done, and all
I need is to
Look at Acadia’s
Sand Beach — and
See the pinprick-sized
Remnants of
Seashells, and
Realize Creation’s
Tides will wash me
Until Kingdom
Come…!
Leo Carroll
November 16, 2018
I see the deep, and if
I can e’er reach it beyond the rocks,
Then maybe into its blue
Arms I can dive and sleep…
Returned home after
Millennia of seemingly
Endless searching,
My pilgrim’s path finished,
My tired feet no longer thirsty…so
Tantalizingly close but still
So far away, because
The remaining steps of my
Path are destined for
A finely sculpted copse
My walk must enter
Along the trail…and then
Onward to a beach, itself
Formed of infinite, miniscule
Pieces of seashells, each
Shell’s journey incalculably
Longer than mine,
Literally grounded into
Smithereens, and the length it
Took not e’en known
By Time…
Jordan Pond
Click for meditationRegarding "Jordan Pond"
This poem is using
Jordan Pond in Acadia National Park as
A metaphor for each one of us.
We have the ability and the
Potential to be beautiful,
And in that beauty, to be a gift
To those around us. The
People who walk the trail
Around Jordan Pond are
Stunned by its magnificence,
And yet it is so small, just like we are!
We live in an overwhelmingly
Complex society, and
We can easily get lost and
Disoriented in the immensity
Of everything going on
Around us…but we have
The potential, just like the
Night’s countless stars,
To individually shine. In the
Poem, the “Almighty Sky”
Reminds Jordan Pond about this,
Telling the pond to be
Thankful for the role given it
By Creation, and not to
Want for more, nor to worry
About having more, nor anything else…
Just like we ourselves are supposed
To be — to recognize our
Gifts, and to know we have
A unique role in the happiness
Of Creation.
Leo Carroll
November 14, 2018
It seems to be flowing,
Moving towards something special,
Parallel trails of bubbles
And foam implying a tidal-like
Current, cold and deep,
Pristine and blue-green,
Amazingly clear as if it was the
Crystal ball of a seer,
Trying to reach some
Mythical place, where its
Stream could join with something much
Bigger. . .all while its smoothed,
Ageless stones whisper,
“Where is the ice of the
Primordial glacier which we once
Embraced, where is our
Eternal Mother, our Father,
Our Brother, our Sister?
And where is the sea,
The sea, that teasingly-close
Amniotic font within
A raven’s call or a
Mariner’s league or
Just beyond the tallest tree?”
And then across the
Water a breeze stills, and
Become calm all the pleadings…
“You’re a pond!” speaks
The Almighty Sky. “Not every
Melancholic yearning can
Turn into the reality to which a
Limited vision clings…
Be thankful, because around
Your banks I have put countless people,
And your role is to bathe
Them in Beauty…”
Ode to Seashells
Click for meditationRegarding "Ode to Seashells"
I love seashells.
They have so many shapes
And curves, so many
Edges smooth but yet still being
Smoothed, so innocent
But yet so strong,
Strong enough to have
Withstood roiling
Riptides, and yet gentle
Enough to lie as a feather
In the flesh of a palm,
So many stories to
Tell, so many waves which tried
To crush them asunder,
So many channel buoys
Ringing in their ears,
So many nameless beaches
Which showcased them in splendor,
So many hands which might
Have picked them up, and then
Passed them along — until
They came to where I am, and
My eyes in another’s
Palm gaze them upon.
Leo Carroll
August 13, 2018
How came you to
Be in her hand, so that to me
She would you give,
My flesh to become soon your
New plane of sand,
Your thin frailness
To become my strength…
Each to the other
To the other…all having
As their source the
Unremitting pounding
And smoothing you once
Withstood — upon an
Anointed shore I tremble to even
Set my pilgrim’s foot!
My Feet
Click for meditationRegarding "My Feet"
There is a small tidal pond,
Naturally preserved, perfect in its
Primordial soul, perfect
In its willingness to serve. And so I found myself
There, immersed in what it
Had to offer, my toes
Intermingled with periwinkles,
And scrubbed by ‘knotted wrack,’
Itself undulating ’round
Smoothed stones,
And then over.
Leo Carroll
September 17, 2018
My feet, each being washed
Clean by the patient primordial sea in healing,
Each little wave lapping as if a
Water pitcher poured down, each smoothed
Stone one of the steps I was
Shown when my life I was
Searching to be found, each
Gentle ocean sponge to exfoliate
My flesh in consonance with
The universe’s care…yes, my feet, and
By these cold Maine gifts they
Are bathed, as if this tidal
Pond’s purpose was to soothe all
They had to bear…
Present Moment
Click for meditationRegarding "Present Moment"
Beauty is
Everywhere, but we
Have to see it,
Simple beauty,
Dandelion beauty,
Visible but hidden beauty,
In plain sight beauty,
Beauty our eyes
Are blinded to because
They’re clouded
With the scales of
Worry, beauty which
Is freely given,
And beauty which
Creation appointed to
Accompany
Our pilgrim’s
Path, when all
Else seemed to flee
Before the twin furies of
Regret about the
Past and fear
Of what the future
Could be.
Leo Carroll
May 8, 2018
And so spoke
Jason in his quest for the
Golden Fleece, and
So shouted Solomon from the
Ramparts of all his
Kingdom’s glory, and even
Inquired Ra, the Egyptian god of the sun,
“Where has been kept this
Hidden beauty,
This boundless yellow,
This brightest smile,
This dandelion,
This annual spring
Hope of ours?”