When Christ was on earth, the dogwood grew
To a towering size with a lovely hue.
It branches were strong and interwoven
And for Christ’s cross its timbers were chosen.
Being distressed at the use of the wood
Christ made a promise which still holds good.
Not ever again shall the dogwood grow
To be large enough for such a tree, and so,
Slender and twisted it shall always be,
With cross shaped blossoms for all to see.
Petals shall have bloodstains marked in brown,
And in all the blossom centers a thorny crown.
All who see it shall think of me,
Nailed to a cross from a dogwood tree.
Protected and cherished the tree shall be
A reflection to all of my agony.