A letter to the Pope about my Grandmother

You see in the year Hitler came to power, a rich man
and a poor woman asked God a question.

The rich man with the Saville Row of money
and the poor woman with the hand-me-downs of none

The rich man went to Harrow and Oxford to learn Literature
and the poor woman to a council school to learn her letters.

The rich man was kind to servants and horses of the hunt
and was hollowed by not falling with our brave lads.

For him the bible and brimstone of Methodist fathers
became words on a page lost in a book.

The poor woman only knew of fathers that kissed
with the bottle and loved with the hand.

For her a faith of candles and forgiveness was a feast
when life only threw you scraps.

The rich man walked dead before life was breathed
back with words that made flesh of a Catholic God.

The poor woman held Mary’s hand but lost her new-born
to ‘Limbo’ so ran to free him with a Methodist God.

His God and Church forgot him so he died without love.
Her God and Chapel lost her so she died without love.

Your Holiness, did they ask the right question or hear the right answer?
Please don’t say only God knows.

Published in The Ground

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