Purgas Grove Poem by ngaio beck

As the mists and the damp of early November
Hid the whipering woods of the Sangamon tree
The smoldering fires were all I remember
The curse of this land, it still haunted me

Just at dusk, as I moved through the shadows
Fear and my guilt caused unbearable pain
Your voice in this place is now just a whisper
Without a shape, any form would sustain

The priests long ago, I remember they told us
Stay away from this woodland, wait until dawn
When the darkness and all of its' voices have scattered
When the Masters of death they have finally gone

The Ferial days, we knew they were narrow
Soon the things of the dark will be here, will be born
The house of the moon now is cold, now is empty
Prayer and my faith they surely will scorn

Alone in this grove, in sorrow I've wandered
To hear your voice once again from the trees
Your fragrance with Nightshade meanders
Your scent I can feel as a stench on the breeze

It taunts me with whispers, it's part of the madness
The screams and the cries plead aloud from the cove
You're gone now, in torment my soul still remembers
The demons, (their dwellings) , in dark Purgas Grove