I love this poem inspired by part of John 13, the gospel reading for today, Maundy Thursday.
SUPPER BEING ENDED
In the quiet place
at close of day
he washes the feet of my mind from the dust of its fret.
His infinite eyes
see the staining and wounds of the road, his hands
The grace of his health
restores my soul
her place in the circling stars of perpetual praise.
Then, taking again the seamless robe, the Alpha-Omega,
Master and Lord,
we talk together,
friend with friend.
Poem by Joan A. Bidwell