She bowed and her head touched his feet,

tears fell as she wept her relief, so poor

had been their days and nights from not

hearing his voice, seeing his smile. That,

——-

now he is here, she kisses the misfit

sandals on his nails battered feet,

and wept again as she felt afresh

hammers banging those spikes in.

——

She saw the scars on his forehead

where brutal thorns had pierced,

and felt his broken hands on her

head as his voice soothed and sped

——

her feet towards the miserable souls

who gathered at Martha’s and wept

to tell a truth, he had power over death,

the kindly Godman of the deepest love.