My Big Brother's Feet

Day the Sixth is a Sunday so I have proffered my poem early. It's a couplet poem.

My Big Brother's Feet

They fit in her hands, with toes so small

So wrinkly and tiny and precious, and all.

Too soon they took wing as babe turned to boy

He ran about learning and serving with joy

He walked to the temple to teach the men there

Wise past his years, He was His Father's heir

Out to the desert, a forty day fast

His feet cracked and bleeding, he weathered the blast

He walked to the seaside, the fishers to meet

Gathering followers street after street

He healed the sick and brought back the dead

He calmed the foul waters, the Good Word to spread

Walking and walking, he traveled the land

Loving His people, and off'ring a hand

He walked upon water, His faith proven sure

And beckoned to Peter to come, not demure

Followed the sower, the reaper, the poor

He healed the leper, the blind and the sore

Mary, who loved Him, brought ointment and care

And she washed them with tears, and dried with her hair

Feet muddy and cracked and bruis-ed for others

Worn out in the service of sisters and brothers

Too soon he was climbing that hill to the gate

To a moonlit garden, a refuge from hate

To pay for our sins, He retreated to pray

And sweat drops of blood on that long-fated day

His steps led to leaders who hated His grace

They whipped Him and argued and spat on His face

Those marvelous feet climbed the Hill of the Skull

Burdened with cross and a thorn crown so cruel

They nailed His feet to the wood of the cross

In ag'ny He bore it, the pain and the loss

His friends took Him down from that dreadful tree

And wrapped Him, entombed Him, so carefully

"Mary," He said, in the garden place

She didn't remember the planes of His face

He went to His Father, His footsteps so sweet

Bringing resurrection to all He would meet

Now we must follow in Jesus' footprints

Back to Our Father and His Peaceful Prince

Those footsteps are big, so demanding to fill

But it's worth it to make it back up the long hill

Back to Our Father, I'll follow Him there

Alive in His footsteps, He and I, we're a pair.

© 2015 by H. Linn Murphy