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A Glimpse of You

Someone washed my feet once,
on Holy Thursday.
I felt utterly bare,
exposed,
humble.
When I sit with you
listening,
sometimes I see
a glimpse of you
like that.
Bare,
vulnerable,
true.
You drop down
deeper
into your self.
Your face relaxes.
Even your voice
settles lower,
like it's coming from
your heart.
And you shine,
almost translucent,
in that perfect moment.