Be it pluck or luck, of Irish
descent a Catholic sits,
not on ceremony,
but knee to knee
at a Hindu temple - hive that thrums,
saris that sway to the call, the drum.
Old woman in saffron stands to dance,
wide the drummer's smile, jubilate in chants.
Every body is a celebrant. Name heresy
for what it is, a lonely frock of hearsay.
Given the bronze medal in this week's "Next Line, Please" of The American Scholar: https://theamericanscholar.org/heresy-and-quarrel/#.WMGA82WTRBY