Plum Island
A Woman’s Loon
A loon, appearing at first
To be injured, flopping awkwardly
In a repetitive motion to
Move. . . thankfully caught
By the camera’s eye
Of a woman, who was
Searching for what she searches
On each new tidal pull of the
Moon. . . and lo’ the loon – ’twas in
Actuality fine and not hurt –
Just preening its wings
Before liftoff to
Heaven, having received
Its final blessing on sands writ
In God’s Holy Word.
Who Dares Say This?
Click for meditationRegarding "Who Dares Say This?"
When I was watching
A video clip of the wild sea state
Occurring at Plum Island
On January 29th, I
Was reminded of the
Old Christian hymn,
“How Great Thou Art.”
The basis for this famous
Work was a nine
Stanza poem written by
Swedish minister,
Carl Boberg, in 1885.
He had been on the Swedish
Seacoast on a beautiful
Day, when he was
Overtaken by a tremendous
Thunderstorm of
Unspeakable power.
And then, just as suddenly,
The sky changed again,
And a beautiful blue
Appeared and birds began
To sing! He dropped
To his knees and began
To utter words which
Would be the basis for his
Poem and afterwards
His song. Next to “Amazing
Grace”, it is considered
The most beloved
Of all Christian hymns.
Flash forward to several
Weeks ago, when on
January 29th, a ‘bomb cyclone’
Snowstorm ravaged
New England and parts of the
Massachusetts coastline
With up to 30 inches
Of snow. In the midst of the
Frenzy that day, a very
Brave woman had, in a sense,
Her own Carl Boberg
Moment, and captured a
Forty two second video clip of
What it was like that
Instant to stand just a few
Bare feet from a wild,
Frigid Plum Island surf.
Thanks to the courage
Of that woman, we, too, can
Understand how someone
In 1885 would say,
“How Great Thou Art!”
Leo Carroll
February 13, 2022
Who says the
Lord God is not great,
That the Lord is not
All-powerful and
Not Sovereign over all
He hath made?
Who dares say this!?
Who dares say
God is not Master
Of the blasting and
Blistering sand
Grains and the wind
Which whips and
Howls, that God is not
Superior to the
Creatures we are,
Caught amidst
This maelstrom and
Travail as waves
Wail as if hath come
Our final hour!?
As Far as Eyes
Cold up’n cold up’n snow,
Cobalt hues as far as eyes the
Foam can follow, and
So this Island bares yet
Another of its winter
Moods, dark it seems,
Distant yet tolerant,
Somber, like a great mastiff
Allowing itself to be
Petted by a child, wary,
Watching as a few
Souls approach the
Edges of its beach, while
Atop a boardwalk’s perch
A lookout also observes,
Like performing sentry duty at
The Ol’ Grand Manse,
Studying the stick-figure
Shapes of these poor
Creatures – in the Presence
Of the Almighty they
Have come to beseech.
Ode to Lord
You observe me in Your
Pervasive “I AM WHO I AM” presence,
Never letting me go, while I, in my
Earthly obliviousness and
Nonchalance, am
Protected by You
Beneath the wing of Your
Sweet shadow. Why,
O Lord, why do You so
Faithfully suffer my
Abandonment of You?
I have far, far surpassed the
‘Three times’ before the cock in
The courtyard crowed…
Here
Click for meditationRegarding "Here"
I have been to Plum Island
So often, starting from when I was
Just a little boy ten years old, right up to
The present when I was there three
Times during a magical stretch in October.
Instead of thinking pumpkins, though,
I was thinking about “grief,” but
Also about “rebirth.” Plum Island is my
Sanctuary when I need sanctuary.
It is my piece of Heaven,
When I need to be reaffirmed
In my faith and to feel the
Absolute awe and wonder of
The eternal Creator, the God of
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,
The “I AM WHO I AM.” So
Over the years, each individual
Wave and sea state, when
I would come and look out over
The boardwalk, has gifted
Me a peak, a hint, into the
Infinite possibilities of the forms
And faces of God, and when
Each time the bare ripple of the
Foam of a wave has touched
My feet, it has always done so in a
Way in which understanding and
Acceptance were conveyed.
Here at Heaven’s gate
Laps nigh my feet in its final
Wake the tide, bare
Seconds before returning
Back out to where it
Will regather into all its foam
And former strength,
And then once more
Come rolling back, to
Kiss where in another life
I had in memory’s bliss this
Sand reclined.