Saturday, May 31, 2014

Scath Beorh- A Poem

The Tree
Pierce this tomb that yearns for night
far from womb of Burning Light
seeded with Golgotha’s pain
that this flesh be born again
up from ghastly ghoulish grave
where I, languishing, have lain,
a turning, churning sordid knave
intent upon the gloom
intent to spurn now what You gave
upon the Tree, that Holy Tree,
upon that Cosmic Tragedy
that I might live; I here now give
my all, and fall upon my knee
in great concern that I yet learn
the ultimate necessity
that each moment be dire intent
of purest thought toward Your Tree.

Born in Pensacola and raised along the Gulf Coast from New Orleans to Panama City, Scáth Beorh has also lived in the South Alabama of his ancestors, Hollywood, New Orleans, Dublin, and throughout Ireland. His books include Black Fox In Thin Places, October House, Ghosts of St. Augustine, Blood: A Vampire Chronicle, Children & Other Wicked Things, Dark Sayings of Old, Pirate Lingo, and Always After Thieves Watch: Stories of Childhood & Other Fantasies. His goal as a storyteller is to ask questions rarely pondered, to speculate, to horrify, and to point listeners toward an endless eternity of forgiveness, light, and the deep things of God. Today he makes a home with his lovely and intuitive wife Ember on a treelined ‘Turn-of-the-Century’ avenue in St. Augustine, Florida.

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