Sense Sonnet - Acher

 Holy Blood of Christ

They used my wood to make the cross

On which Jesus was crucified.

Then, I understood not the loss,

Just another human who died.

But then when He rose from the dead,

I knew, and small and twisted I

Turned into from the blood He'd shed.

And now each Easter does bloom my

Flowers in form of a cross shape,

With petals having a red stain.

For my part, I cannot escape.

He forgave, but I'm still in pain.

Salvation Christ gave, I ever be

A reminder from the dogwood tree.