Peter Hackett His mind was a bright garden where God walked And watched everything: The white tablecloths wilting in wet Galilee heat, The crumbling mortar that the Romans brought, And the bees buzzing. When it rained – it rarely rained - The drops came bouncing off the hardened earth, Springing up again like shoots, sparkling green, Reflecting all the colours of the world about them. Food and drink shone with so much sun You could sink inside them, rest your eyes: It’s risky to look too long at God. He shaded his eyes and squinted behind glasses, Fine paintbrush hairs like lashes to shield him from the glare. Note: Peter Hackett SJ was a priest and gifted painter - as well as an editor, librarian, headteacher of several schools, Master of Campion Hall, Oxford, and even (during wartime service in the Royal Navy) deputy harbourmaster of Venice.
Corinna Keefe is a freelance writer currently based in the UK. She has previously published poetry with Broken Sleep Books and Enthusiastic Press.
Amethyst Review 