The Carpenter of Lampedusa – a poem by Beth Brooke

The Carpenter of Lampedusa

lives near the church, goes to Mass 
on Sundays; makes tables upon 
which bread is broken and shared.

His faith is practical. He believes all 
men are brothers and you should
love your neighbour as yourself.

Some days the carpenter of Lampedusa 
passes the harbour’s graveyard of boats,
all launched in the brightly coloured hope

of new beginnings. They carried young 
men fleeing lives too hard to bear, wrecked
them, washed them onto the beach 

of Lampedusa. Now they wander the streets, 
huddle by the harbour wall, homesick, 
afraid, their dreams full of deep water.

But the neighbours of Lampedusa
bring them in, invite them to the table,
break and share the bread.

At Mass they offer prayers of thanks 
for these young men, their safe delivery,
do their best to comfort them 

while the carpenter of Lampedusa takes 
scraps of wood from graveyard boats,
spends his evenings carving, shaping,

makes talismans for each life saved,
small crucifixes of thanksgiving.
His faith is practical

and if he trembles at the thought of
those they could not rescue, he pauses, 
prays, asks God to bless him, bless 

the gifts he makes from the splinters
of boats that just keep coming.
Christ in the work of his hands.

Beth Brooke is a retired teacher. She lives in Dorset. Her debut pamphlet, A Landscape With Birds was published by Hedgehog Poetry in 2022. She has work published by Fly On The Wall, Ink, Sweat & Tears, Cerasus, Black Bough Press and some others.