Heretic Heart

by Catherine Madsen

I am a bold and a Pagan soul a-rattlin’ through this land.
I judge the world by my own lights and I come by my own hand;
And if you ask me where I learned to live so recklessly,
My skin, my bones, my heretic heart are my authority.

My mother was a spinner of tales, my father a dreaming man.
And I have swung on the Dragon’s Tongue and danced on holy land.
I have sung the seed up from the ground and the bird down from the tree;
My skin, my bones, my heretic heart are my authority.

Once I was bound but now I’m gone away from the faithful fold
From those who preach that holiness is to do as you are told.
Though law and scripture, priest and prayer have all instructed me,
My skin, my bones, my heretic heart are my authority.

They tell me Jesus loves me, but I think he loves in vain;
He must go unrequited, on me he has no claim.
My healer is the Lady Moon whose tides run deep in me.
My skin, my bones, my heretic heart are my authority.

And while I breathe this glorious air, an outlaw I’ll remain;
My body will not be subdued and I will not be saved.
And if I cannot shout aloud, I’ll sing it secretly,
My skin, my bones, my heretic heart are my authority!

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