Fenland

It stands alone there in the fen, 

an old building, derelict now

but still stately as a church,

a cathedral like church,

one of the many built 

by those profiting from the wool

of the sheep grown on those flat-lands

and of the labour of poor men and women.

Built to secure the rich man’s place in Heaven,

and standing there still like this building,

just one more elderly relic

of the same trade

with stories to tell

of Heaven and Hell

under those big skies

with storm clouds rolling.

https://figtreepoetry.substack.com/p/the-fig-tree-womens-poetry-special?utm_source=post-email-title&publication_id=2235385&post_id=184135626&utm_campaign=email-post-title&isFreemail=true&r=juknd&triedRedirect=true&utm_medium=email