©2011 Susan Noyes Anderson (poem only)
Leather sandals, dusty feet,
soles worn out in service.
Lessons taught, lessons learned;
stilled souls waiting, nervous.
Passover dawns bittersweet;
bodies tense against the day.
Disciples listen. Master’s words
pass over them and slip away.
Confusion, fear; can it be true?
A Sword of Might should be their Lord.
He kneels, a servant at their feet.
“Nay, bathe us not,” their tongues implore.
He answers: if ye would have part
with me, then yield to mine own hand.
This Living Water washes soles of feet
and cleanses souls of man.
Alas, they did not understand.
A lifetime later, at the cross,
their broken hearts knew well the cost.
He rose again and made them whole:
mind and body, sole and soul.