Rebirth
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.
Touching
Click for meditationRegarding "Touching"
How many people for whate’er
Reason are metaphorically cloistered behind
Barriers both visible and invisible,
Real and unreal, physical and not…?
I believe there are countless, and
Feel e’en that does not do justice to the
Actual number…! When I recently
Saw a photograph of yellow and
Violet flowers touching and rubbing
Against a drab, grey window pane,
I was immediately struck by how valiant
It was for them to be doing that!
Maybe they were simply attempting to
Connect with a lonely flower
Sitting in a musty, dry vase behind
The window panes, or maybe
They somehow sensed a human
Was secluded behind there, and their
Little yellow and violet petals
Could be the first steps towards
Liberating what (until then) had just
Been a lost manifestation of
Hopeless and powerless prayer…
But then Beauty came knocking
On the window, and that set
Loose the possibility for something
Or someone to rise up
And to live again…
Leo Carroll
November 15, 2020
Discreetly they reach,
Each trying to peek in and to touch…
Yellow and violet “somethings,”
Peering and looking, somehow suspecting
That on the oth’r side of the
Grey panes was “something else,”
And so their petals – with
Their colors and curiosity piqued –
Tap the glass to awaken
Whate’er is cloistered the
Cobwebs and mildew behind,
Because if the window
Could just be pried op’n a
Wee bit, could be breathed
E’erlasting fresh air by whate’er
Invisible lay hid…
Leaves and Verses
Click for meditationRegarding "Leaves and Verses"
When we marvel at an
Autumn tree in all its glory, still
Full-bodied with magnificent leaves,
At first glance the leaves may
Appear more or less the
Same, but each, in fact, is
Different, and when a closer
Peek is taken, is shown
The majesty of a widely
Diverse Creation. Just like us!
A tree replete with leaves
Can be viewed like a portrait
Composite of ourselves, with all
Our innumerable moods,
Thoughts, and emotions, some
Fleeting, some longer lasting,
Some leaves slipping to
The ground early, while others
Lingering before falling
To the soil, everything
Transitory but at the same
Time regenerative, nothing ever
Lost, everything part of
Our human nature and in its
Own right profound,
All things working together
To show the complexity
Of the Universe’s work of art,
And, yes, as reflected
In our very own existence!
Leo Carroll
October 20, 2020
Each leaf, each varied hue,
A metaphor for my thoughts, my
Emotions, my moods, and now each one
Fated to fall to the ground –
Taking with it my pleadings, my
Thanksgivings, my autumns,
My springs, my memories,
My choices, my regrets, my
Victories, and soon to be all lying
Mixed and interchangeable
And undecipherable up’n the
Earth, until a plow someday churns
Them into rich soil, to be
Spread like butter again up’n
Next year’s verse…
Finally
Click for meditationRegarding "Finally"
Sometimes our path may
Seem so arduous, so unrelenting, so
Littered with choices and
Decisions and events, which
To look back up’n later
Can leave us worn and spent,
Almost turned to stone like
Lot’s wife, each step
Taken a test of perseverance
And might, each step with
No chance to repeat,
But just to move
Forward with a hopeful
Heartbeat…but what if we
Suddenly came up’n and
Arrived at the final few steps,
And could smell the
Blessed salt air of rebirth
And fragrance, and e’en hear
The gentle lap of waves
As if applied against our
Psyche and soul had come
A warm compress…such
Thoughts came to me when I
Saw two photographs
Recently taken at Sandy
Point on Plum Island.
I could not help but put
Myself in the shoes of the
Photographer, and thus
Unfolded before me the
Poem written in first person.
And so. a peridot-green canopy
Became a dream-like,
Long-sought tunnel
Of welcome, and on the
Oth’r side of it – the
Magnificence of a sun-bathed,
Pristine beach, with
Immaculate sands purring,
“Behold the absolute
Wonder of peace and
Release.”
Leo Carroll
September 28, 2020
Through the portal
I flow, its canopy my safe
Passage to shelter
Where e’en my whims
May follow…and then out the
Oth’r side I someday
Step, my journey
O’er, and my deepest
Wish waiting on the beach –
With my breathing
Breathless…
The Ten Commandments
The Ten Commandments
The stone tablets were
Laid bare on the hot desert floor,
Heat radiating off them
Unmercifully, their inscriptions
Indelible but their verses
Too radioactive for fingers
To trace and explore…
Their Commandments were
Simple, but the words
Interpreted so harsh, first
Given on the holy heights of a
Mountain, but carried
Back down into the valley
Where its gorge emptied into the
Yawning well of a parched fountain…
So rigorous the stone tablets
Seemed, so unyielding in
Their demands, so heavy to
Carry, so burdensome
On shoulders already
Stooped by the land…but
Then a new translation
Came along, the intent of the
Commandments still to be fully
Met, but the hardness
Of the tablets softened by a
Yoke of Love to help
Them to be lifted…as if
The Balm of Gilead was applied
Retroactively to when the
Tablets were first cast, and
Was now mixing with the Potter’s
Original ingredients – the
Yeast of the Cornerstone to
Secure them fast…
The Moment
As if on command,
An angel flapped her wings,
As if on command, another angel
Clapped his hands, and so
Light spread shadow-by-shadow
Across the dry valley, and
Wisdom shone where had stood
Desert sands…such a
Revelation, a revelation of
Almighty, moving might,
Given to ears that heard it,
Given to eyes which saw its form…
And given also when was thought,
“Is this real or is this not?!”