Heresy

A poem written in 2016 after a conversation with one of the prisoners who had become “born again” into one or other of the religions on offer at the time. I just considered most of them as born again criminals. I am continuously amazed, in everyday life, by the number of people who are devoid of compassion, or other moral values such as forgiveness, yet profess to be religious. It’s as if, just saying one is religious, one is absolved of the need to behave well.

Heresy

Of all the flames that burned heretics
Some still burn bright today
The choirs that cheered have few lessons learned
And till bay for blood as their children play
The wisdom of wrath fans the ethos of envy
And moulds the mythology of a heathen enemy
 
We may no longer burn our foes
With the enthusiasm of the ecstatic
But the cruelty of some still no limit knows
To others whose ideas are anathematic
Beliefs, of themselves, are no real threat
Cruelty can only cruelty beget
 
Despite the struggles that have defined this earth
Evil remains undefeated
Yet, unto our death and from our birth
Our stock of compassion is undepleted
Whether fast and furious or slow as snail
Human progress, in time, will prevail
 
Heresy is by the church defined
But interpreted by a political power
A distortion of the religious mind
That threatens even those that cower
Hearsay and hatred will play their part
But defining heresy is an ever-dying art