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Lenten Meditation for one voice. Develops from reflection on Jesus' feet rather than those washed by him...

And did those feet..?

And did those feet??
the baby's feet - borne in womb, carried on donkey, carried by Mary, carried by Joseph
the boy's feet - crawled, stretched, crept through childhood's undergrowth, tucked together on Temple floor
the youth's feet - ran, climbed, jumped, sprung in the blackberry wildness of full summer sun
the man's feet - stood strong square, strode, stumbled, never fell, searched, succeeded, sought out another
washed in the baptising Jordan
climbed the hill of Temptation
dusted down the country's lanes
swept through fields of wheat and weeds
caught in the prickly patches
splashed through streams, over lakes, 'cross the Galilean sea
nettled and needled, scraped on stones, bled - the red stuff that came from the heart
journeyed into Jerusalem
stamped out in anger
supported in debate
pointed and bore him to Bethany
these tired and dusty feet
marked with the scars of pilgrimage
pictures telling a thousand stories, a thousand heartaches,
out of the city to sanctuary Bethany,
soothed and bathed
roots drinking in the force which drove his green age to the last days and hours
brought him upstairs to where a dozen other pairs waited his cleansing
squatted, ankles strong, toes flexed, to wash those other feet
the feet that soon would be walking for him?

Continues ....

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