Basin and Towel

I love this poem inspired by part of John 13, the gospel reading for today, Maundy Thursday.

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 
bring smarting 
and cleansing 
and balm. 
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


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