Feet of Light 

R.I.P.  Dad 11-01-2009

I bathe my Father’s aged, worn,

peeling

Nile brown feet

feet that once proudly trod the noble

earth

from his island home in the

Caribbean

to the island of Manhattan

around the world as a WW II vet and

back

these feet are raw with life

patting them dry, gently filing the

gnarled nails

even simple tasks like this so hard

for him to do now

and tender touches few and far

between

He seems to enjoy the gentle foot

massage with sweet oils

my thoughts soak in rich memories

of Dad’s wise words and honest living

His imperfections, too, a monument,

a testament to one determined

to stay the course, to not quit, despite

emotional, economic and ethnic

obstacles

anointing his feet with more oil,

I reflect on the early pain between us

how the balm of Love and

Forgiveness

which soothes and softens

all calloused, hardened feelings

blessed us with healing

Clasping my Father’s feet in my

hands

I bow to his Lotus feet

he was my first glimpse of God and

Unconditional Love