Holy Feet - originally penned in 2003

Holy Feet

I wish I could have washed them
(dust covered and sandaled), but
I never realized the need,
the honor

when they walked desert roads,
the desserted wilderness.

I was in awe when they stepped upon the waves.
I was in fear when the walked the Roman stairs.
I was foolish
until they were crushed
with nails--bloodied and dead

like my hopes upon that cross.
All my good intentions went to hell
when he stopped breathing,
cried out!

I cried out--cried myself out,
buried my tears behind that massive stone.
I was stoic

for three days,
dead
as long as he was in my unbelief.

Until, once more, my tears unleashed
when the dead stone moved alone,
moved by an unseen Power,
made alive once more.

This is why you find me on the floor
face down at his feet,

Holy feet, I worship
kissing God without sandals.

There is nothing more between us.