I’d be happy to rinse away
the earth dirt and scrub
Your sandals – much happier
than if You asked to clean my feet.
One Maundy Thursday, some of us
went up for a foot-washing at church,
and I was embarrassed when a man
with feet two-thirds the size of mine
took my foot in his hands and began
to wash without a word.
I’d be happier
if You held the foot I
once withheld from You.
for grooming us to be
less conceited servants.
Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016