A Coupling of Grace & Fear - (pp. 3 & 4 of 4)**

A Coupling of Grace & Fear - (pp. 3 & 4 of 4)

A Story by Paris Hlad

But Paris was not one to gain much in the afterglow of an epiphany, nor did he ever live up to the standards of his lofty ideals, even in those idyllic years when he looked to refine his thinking in the storied hills of the Hudson Valley. Though he grew confident in his soaring propositions, he failed to achieve much of what he had hoped. In truth, he was only infrequently “mindful of the eternal,” and he never embraced a philosophy or intellectual paradigm that he every time trusted. This, he would freely admit, even though he was regularly critical of inconsistency in others. Like so many of us, Paris was a rank hypocrite; but in fairness to him, he would have been the first to concede that fault and the last to supply an excuse.

 

That said, Paris recognized his shortcomings as an artist, and he was tentative, even guarded about sharing his work in the public forum. And he may well have disliked promoting his poetry even more than he yearned for the approval of others. Moreover, he knew he was only one among millions who believe they have something important to say, and he never considered himself particularly interesting or gifted. No, Paris was realistic in that way. But in the nativity of his inmost faith, a magnificent case for hope had been made, and Paris was his whole life a reliable messenger.

 

-P-

 

Just before the last walk, we would take together on Caswell Beach, Paris was moved to tell me how Pope Francis had once confided to an atheist friend, that he too believed that hell was a myth. I was surprised by the asperity in his voice when he said this.  He seemed angry with the Holy Father, and even a bit embarrassed to have shared the story with me.

 

Still, Paris was scarcely a dogmatist or “true believer” in any body of religious particulars. He was primarily a generous and open-minded intellectual. He may have proved willing to share his thoughts about life on the physical plane, but he never sought converts to his way of thinking. Consideration? Yes. But the poet feared that his thesis might lead others astray, or even cause them to despair over things that they can do nothing about. He would have much preferred that his readers remain skeptical of his ideas and find their own special way to an unknown afterlife or eternal state of nothingness.

 

The creation of Pilgrim Heart was the defining activity of Paris Osowski’s old age. Although he wrote many of its lines while he was still in his sixties and teaching college prep classes in upstate New York, he completed what he called a “shareable version” of the work only after retiring to Southport, North Carolina in 2015.  There, he devoted an additional 19,000 hours to its revision, periodically publishing it under various titles and distributing it in libraries, book shops, and thrift stores along the Carolina coast. It remained a “work in progress” until his death at age 73 in December 2022.

 

Early on, however, the poet tried selling copies of his book for the benefit of St. Jude Children’s Hospital and raised about $250. Later, he expressed regret in having done so, as he was financially comfortable and could have easily written a larger check and avoided the shame of having promoted his ambitions on the backs of sick children. This is not to say that the poet’s intentions were impure, but that he was often slow to recognize what his intentions were. Perhaps only the truly vain are capable of appreciating the nuanced evils of vanity. That was an uncomfortable lesson for Paris, but he recognized his error and never again sought to exploit the charity and goodwill of others �" At least, in that way.

 

In later years, the poet gave copies of his work to family members and friends, as well as to interested scholars, and people associated with the Cape Fear Poetry & Prose Society.  He did a number of public readings in the Wilmington/Southport area and made a vigorous effort to share his work via the internet. With a handful of his posts “trending” on America’s major poetry websites, Paris could proudly claim 144,351 “reads.” And although such numbers are scarcely spectacular by internet standards, Paris knew he had achieved the aims of a common poet. His work had been read. Indeed, a former member of the BBC Poetry Corner referred to Paris as a “poet-comrade” whose work “deserved to be read[1]