Scath Beorh- Two Poems

St. John 6.55

 

In preparation, we invite

the smallest detail in the night

and gather gladness like a rood

gathers wildflowers, and we should,

for all in life comes to one part:

that we might hold the Holy Heart;

that we might become joyful swords

impaled upon the Living Word,

impaled and reborn for the Host,

our Ancient Lord the Holy Ghost.

 

His blood in me,

His flesh in me;

strange light-bringing mystery.

Higher

 

I am fevered

not now with things long dead

but with a newfound fervor

for the Living Dread,

for the higher highest ground

where I know are secrets found

and, just now, people whose strange sound

is my challenge and my crown.

 

I remember childhood.

I remember youthful fears.

I remember old age in that odd land

with my candle’s tears.

But what I now remember most

is the dreadful Searing Host

who some now call the Holy Ghost,

the Paraclete who loves me most,

protects me from lost years.

 

As much as lieth within thee,

     live peaceable with men.

What is it lies down within me?

     Christ Jesus lies within.

bio:

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 Cherokee and Ulster-Scot 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. His vision 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.