Traveler
© Avril
VanderMerwe
Like the grime
of an ancient traveler
At the end of
the footsore day
I have
accumulated on my feet
The dust of roads
I have trod.
Step after step-chafed
blisters have
Broken to leak
muddied tears
Along trails ragged
with bruised
Hope urging me on
one more climb
To the cool
space of an upper room.
Pierced hands
pierce the gloom.
A splash of water pools my feet.
Washed by love on bended knees. I weep.
