Poem: "The Feet" by John Predmore, S.J.

The warm water and soft towel, 

Gentle hands and understanding eyes. 

A soothing movement as he binds himself to his friends. 

But he comes to me. I recoil. You can skip me. 

            I cannot. 

But I’m not ready. 

            I need more time. 

This is the time. Reluctant attention, as I’m the one to wash. 

           You have to let me. 

The nearness of his breath. I smell it. It is warm. Frightened intimacy. 

More breath. 

Just breath. 

I don’t know what just happened. 

I take his hands and help him up, and he just looks at me. 

We are breathless. 

Overwhelmed, I say, “There are too many feet.” 

He is silent. 

I wait. 

I learn. 

I know. 

“There are not enough feet.”