Author: Carl Meadows R.N. BSN, MA

I am different now

I am different now It was convenient for me to be privileged and unconnected to the woes of the world Privilege is the ability to decide wether something pertains to you Boil water advisories are for poor and indigenous people Homelessness is for those who made bad choices Floods were the plague of trailer parks and those who couldn’t afford the view suits As I stand waist deep in water of affluence, I wonder what “privileged” system turned on the taps Was I asleep at the wheel? Did I not listen to the public municipal zoning discussions about building in the forest zone vulnerable to fires, or building approvals in the flood plains? Did those indigenous wisdom keepers get ignored; were they invited? Was I numb to the killing of bears who “invaded” “our space”? Or was I one of those who “blamed the deer” for grazing in what once was their natural lands. As I stand blood stained, blisters on hand, wet and tired, I think I am different now. As I wipe my …


As I stand back and wonder about love I see a femoral light that pulls from a heart that knows words cannot accurately express what my wisdom understands Love is a wordless entity As I sit back, and close my eyes I know I am loved As the balloons get liberated and left to fend for themselves, they know that they will meet their destiny Love has wrapped me with warmth I can’t harness what it actually is However, it is exactly what I need in the reality of meaning I close my eyes and feel the warmth Of a world that loves me Not understanding a tangible reality; understanding the wisdom of knowing Love is exactly what it needs to be~ Carl Meadows, November 23, 2017

You Touched Me ~

My feet touched the ground shrouded by a deafening silence The wind and the sea made me spellbound I saw the rolling hills of blinding white stones I stepped from the safety of materialism to the epicentre of despair The irony that I could speed away anytime never left me I decided to walk out alone amongst thousands of lost dreams The first white stone came into focus as the tears stung my face and the words paralyzed every cell of my humanness “He sleeps in a foreign land, in a grave we never see. May god guide a kind hand to lay a flower for me. Mother~” As I stood on the precipice of loss; the beauty of this resting place will never be forgotten and you touched me~ Juno Beach, France Carl Meadows november 6, 2016

Childhood Lands

Running through the reeds with fishing pole in hand, were part of the etchings of elder longings During the darkest moments, I closed my eyes and dreamed of those days I stayed out so late, I could only see the glimmer of the sun over the mountain crest My childhood lands disappeared many years ago; gobbled up by yellow monsters with rubber feet Skunk cabbage; the man in the woods disappeared with the falling of the tree-fort making way for the empire of asphalt and cedar hedges. These memories will smother me over one hundred lifetimes. Whenever my sickness of home buckles me at the knees, I will close my eyes, wrap my arms around my soul and remember. Carl Meadows June 30, 2016  


As I laid down beside you, I let every bit of air leave my lungs You were everything I thought you were, and I must let you go You covered me with an anointed oil that has no antidote the residue is something I have come to accept I outlined your silhouette, with my hand  I touched my heart as if it was a tangible object to stroke and console At times your presence has provoked my inner child moreover, you have reminded me of my pure humanness please let me lay beside you, so I can stare into your reflection I promise I won’t need you forever  Only tonight, when I need to hear you breathe when I awaken, I know you will be gone as the first blinding ray of sunlight enters my room I will know, you have let me go Carl Meadows April 14, 2016

Don’t Count Me Out

As I crawled from my childhood battlefield, I remembered the voices of hope, like a permanent etching in my mind I was never good enough, strong enough, quiet enough every time I had “an idea”, it caused the stone figures to shudder The forces of conformity weighted on me like a hundred bricks The passcode was easy to remember; “do what we say, not what we do” At times I felt the aloneness, as if I was taking the last possible drop of water yet, through hope, I always believed another tear would quench me And then the test began, like a lightning storm in a forgotten dessert You were there to feel the bolt You may have scarred me, torn at my skin and even made me weep  But you will never change the fabric of me My power isn’t one of dominance, ego or dishonesty  It is the most frightening one of all As I touch the hearts of those who know me through kindness, you will never know love, peace or redemption  …


It was too dark to see much of anything,  other than the silouette of a white sheer headscarf covering your face I was drawn toward the cavernous darkness, surrounded by a shadow, lit by the edges of the crescent moon The darkness gave me an eerie comfort, as I had been there many times before Thinking that shame had created every waking fabric of my being, knowing it was the pen that wrote many of my scripts or the patches on my quilt that completed me When I walked along side you, I could hear your footsteps, words are unnecessary, and I know the imprints of the past are behind me Why do you awaken so fiercely, when I am unprepared for your defening roar? Should I numb all my humanness, to keep from succumbing to the schoolyard scars? Your whispers unleash all my secrets, only known to me When you startle me, I become something foreign to myself What teachings haven’t I learned, that you persist like the plague? Can you not live without …

Miss Grief

Miss Grief Oh Miss Grief, you are such an insidious friend When I am weak and crawling on my knees, you appear at my most vulnerable moments Was it the first tear, that called you out from the shadows could you taste the moisture in such a parched and sterile world Was it the look on my face when my pale skin, reflected the moonlight or the gravity of my trembling hand, that awoke you from your restless slumber Oh Miss Grief, I tried to divert all the energy I had away from your hollow call My heartache ensued, and your touch was sublime I shut my eyes and waited for the moment, You were there touching my soul, listing to the beat of my heart, as I waited I heard your footsteps on the floor of creaking destiny I wondered if you would console me I closed my eyes and waited, Oh Miss Grief, thank you for meeting me once again that I may tell the world, you cared Knowing I was never alone …

A “Selfie” and me

As I watch the world in front of me, I notice all of us have at times lost sight of life, which is the one right in the moment staring you in the face. I watched an entire dinner party take pics of their food, and “selfies, and no one was having conversations. This poem isn’t about shaming the “I was here” culture of taking pics, its provoking us to wonder if our need to “be here and seen” via social media is preventing us to see the greater wonders of life pass us by.   A “Selfie” and me I was “here” the other day and time got the better of me, I took a picture in front of the sea, and forgot to float on my back and dream I lost a day because my battery died, I didn’t enjoy my dinner, as I had no one message me, they must have tried? I forgot to say I love you, because I was surfing the net and couldn’t find the time, maybe tomorrow …

Gum Girl

Gum girl Who would you be, if you could see the perils of me As you reach for my finger and tell, about the gum you have to sell What if your joy was richer than mine; would we see through a window or hide through a blind What if your smile meant everything to me; it’s not worth a dollar if I have no time to “be” What if your happiness captured everything I’m not; would I give it all up to sit with my mom in one spot The laughter and smiles and mud puddle jumps, makes everything better in a world full of bumps Life is precious as time moves on, I’ll dream of the girl with the gum from now on~ Carl Meadows January 5, 2015