Rebirth
Summer Daydreaming
Click for meditationRegarding "Summer Daydreaming"
I love that little Maine
Beach where I found myself sitting
Last week! Every year it
Becomes my safe harbor to
Daydream, wonder, and reflect. No more
Than a quarter mile in length,
It points seaward into
The Gulf of Maine.
Cold the water is! Brrrr!
Healing! Rejuvenating!
And it seems that
Every year as I sit upon
That beach, a fog bank will
Regularly roll in, and a sailboat
Will come into view tacking
In and out of my sight.
I have a relationship
With that sailboat which is
Complicated to define.
It has so many different
Meanings to me, and each one
Is synonymous with
Various themes at work
In my life. One of the
Most important of these
Themes is the loosing of
An almost continual, merciful,
Thought-stream of verse
And stanza, which will
Slip in and out of my
Consciousness like that
Which tacks in an out of a
Marvelous coastal
Maine fogbank, and
Where on my last day
Sitting — it will disappear
Until next year…
Leo Carroll
August 20, 2019
Found
Like a sailboat my voice
Wafts, tacking into the wind, and
Then blithely disappears into the fog’s womb,
Where it soon re-emerges again…
It seems as if my speech has
Been released by the muse on
Behalf of merciful God, and verse and
Stanza have been loosed by
Healing spittle upon a
Tongue’s tied knot.
Sailing
It is as if
On that sailboat I found
My voice, and in and out of the fog tacked
Verse and stanza which
Had waited to be released for
Eons without choice.
“Heave into sight,” shouted
The First Mate, and from the crow’s nest
Then hollered down, “Nary a fear
Is in view, just whitecaps
And blue sky in natural union
Abounding.”
Awakening
Click for meditationRegarding "Awakening"
My life has been
Anointed with far, far more
Gifts than it has with any trials and
Challenges which are otherwise
Names for the unremitting human condition.
Millions of little things, like
A songbird, an autumn leaf, a
Stranger’s smile, an unexpected
Encounter, a perfect
Snowflake, a dandelion, the
Love of a grandchild…
All these things and endless
More are constantly
Given freely when we may be
Thinking of ourselves as otherwise
Alone. I believe there is a
Power Greater Than We Are
Which knows of our
Existence. Each of us calls
This Power by a different name,
And even some who do
Not believe in a Higher Power
Acknowledge its possibility by virtue
Of disclaiming its very existence.
We are blessed so much in
Our day-to-day lives with Beauty…
Beauty which itself is a
Manifestation and face of
Our Higher Power.
For me, I hope my life’s
Path is a long one, in whatever
Form and realm my physical and
Spiritual travels may take…
I feel I am still in the early
Stages of having my rough edges
Smoothed, and every time I
Am bowed I am elevated by an
Unexpected gift which
Grabs me under the arm…
Like the Rhode Island lotus
Flower this poem describes, in
Its own right wondrous in its
Appearance, but, nevertheless, not
Limited by its physical beauty,
Because it, too, is always
Becoming through the work of
Creation mysteriously even
More beautiful, like all of us
Are, as the inside of us unfurls,
And our Higher Power finally
Says, “Behold My Child.”
Leo Carroll
December 28, 2019
As if at long last
Revealing its inner self,
All caution set aside,
What had been enough
Finally deemed to be enough,
What had heretofore
Been cloaked, but
Caught now in photo
As it floated upon
A Rhode Island pond,
A lotus flower in the
Faintest pinks and
Whites and greens and
Yellows, all blending
In the hues of a
Proffered heart
Given freely, and its
Beat the divine
Rhythm of the
Blood of Beauty,
The pulse soft and
Subdued, the petals
A cushion for
God’s footstool,
Whereupon the
Haversacks could be
Placed of weary,
Arriving souls.
Leo Carroll
August 3, 2019
Westford, Massachusetts
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…
Love
Click for meditationRegarding "Love"
I was recently sitting
In a waiting room in Stoneham and
Listening for my name to be
Called for my ophthalmology
Examination. It is still not clear to
Me what happened next,
But I sensed someone was
Standing in front of me and
Staring at me. I raised
My head slowly to look up,
And there was this little
Boy, perhaps six or seven years
Old, and he had a smile
On his face. As soon as our
Eyes connected, he said
Something quickly to me which
Came out in a burst, like a
Digital stream of binary
Information. I could not
Understand a word of it,
But whatever he said, it was
Obviously important to him from
His facial earnestness looking at me.
Before I had a chance to
Respond, however, a young woman
Quietly appeared beside him,
Gently took his hand,
And as she started to
Turn to lead him back to a
Chair in the waiting room,
She gave me a knowing nod,
As if to convey she knew
That for a few seconds
Her son and I had connected in a
Mysterious, spiritual bond.
Leo Carroll
February 20, 2019
I feel his presence before
I see him, a young boy perhaps six
Years old who now stands several feet
In front of me, almost as if an
Apparition he so suddenly appears,
Like a rush of wind and then the
Paraclete’s breath upon my face,
And he smiles but his attempt
To speak is garbled and unintelligible —
At least in a worldly way that I can
Understand — and then his mother
Walks up softly and takes hold his hand,
And gently leads him away to
A seat in the waiting room’s
Sheepfold … while I in my
Chair am left wondering in
Awe of the message spoken by his
Incomprehensible words, and
Why he had picked me to be
Culled from out of the herd to
Hear his vocal cords struggle
In stanza and verse?
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 …”