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And Martha Served
by Victoria Field

They made a supper
and it was I who served
Lazarus, of course, was there
but it was I who served

I watched him, warm with life
sit among those chosen men
I’d swept clean the room
and arranged the chairs

It was I who served and I
like things neat, the plate
and cup within our Saviour’s
easy reach, everything

just so. I brought the bread
as soft and white as flesh
and then a dark, warm wine
that poured both deep and slow –

it was I who served -
a shadow who was barely there
while she let loose her waves
of wild hair and perfumed

the room with something
strange and sweet, daring
herself as I would never do
to wash his dear, unblemished feet

I’m barely seen as I tidy, serve
and clean, ignored and empty
as the air. It was I who served
Yes, I was there.