I always feel a little sad each month when the 13th rolls around, and I realize that Sal is no longer with us.
But this time I have good news. First, A Slice of Orange is pleased to publish two of Sal’s poems. Next, members of the Bethlehem Writers Group have volunteered to write columns for the 13th.
Here is the schedule so far:
October: Diane Sismour
November: A. E. Decker
December: Carol L. Wright
January: Jodi Bogert
February: Christopher D. Ochs
March: DT Krippene
Sal was one of the founding members of Bethlehem Writers Group, and I think she would be over the moon that her fellow members are filling her spot.
Marianne
Poems by Sal
ANCIENT RITUALS
Sally Paradysz
Next, I heard some named penance an ancient tradition. A struggle between senses and sense.
Lash marks bled on bare backs. Knees on scarred hardwood, calloused and worn, bent until they screamed for relief.
Men seek to give lessons, but silence was the teacher. Then, we are swept clean and told to go forward in purity.
Penitent, but longing still.
SILENT PAIN, SILENT LOVE
Sally Paradysz
In this world where personal
commitment, with all of its
delicate forms, seems
to be shattering apart,
And unconditional and
undying love has become
nothing more than a
matter of convenience,
There are some of us still,
who find the intelligence
and passion born of living…
In some who approach their
life without analysis,
which can destroy the Whole,
There is some magic in this life,
you know, where if
you only consistently
look at the pieces,
They will just as surely
blow away in the wind
and demolish the All…
Are we becoming obsolete
within a world of
organization, rules, regulations,
in “Bud” we trust,
to borrow a phrase…
Will this magic disappear
with stick-on name tags and
clothes that make us
all look alike…
It is with this passion and
controlled arrow-like intensity,
mixed with warmth,
That I will approach the time
of day when white months
are on the wing,
And in the heat of that
summer’s evening, will let
myself be taken away,
To transcend and merge in
the Light, where such certainty
comes only once, no matter how
many lifetimes you live…
In this dance with the
universe, my eagerness gives way
to shaman-like silence,
Discarding all sense of
anything linear and spiraling toward
millions of candles,
Where my constant companion
of loneliness disappears for
the last time,
And I become consumed and out
of a world that seems
to be God-abandoned…
Never again will I live with dust
on my heart, or feel
trapped by foggy mornings,
Instead I am forever grateful
for the four billion years
Of love,
Which will help me with my
systems of balance and order
in the lifetime I have left…
I have ceased being separate
and now feel free to continue
the dance of integration…
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