Heresies

by Veneta Masson

But this I confess unto thee,

that after the way which they call heresy,

so worship I the God of my fathers.

Paul, The Acts of the Apostles

I collect them,

these rascally articles of faith.

They’re like the ugly stepsisters who

end up with the prince and two shoes—

you may not love them

but they deserve some respect

and who knows but what

they have truth in them

just waiting to be shaken out

like green copper pennies

from a disreputable piggy bank.

Here’s my question:

Don’t we who mull

on the fringe of the crowd,

who don’t get the message,

so poke around and draw

our own conclusions—

don’t we deserve a creed?

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Veneta Masson began writing poems and essays inspired by her years as a nurse in what was then a sketchy but vibrant neighborhood in Washington, DC. Although she now lives in Silver Spring, Maryland, she is still firmly planted there as part of New Community Church on S Street, NW. These days her poems come as she explores the intersections of science and art, health and illness, faith and doubt, orthodoxy and heresy. More at www.sagefemmepress.com.