Sonnet

Like a root in arid ground.
Without beauty, without majesty we saw Him.
We can but wonder, all we who are sound.
His face is bloodied and grim.

We were at the children’s stations.
Surveying the wondrous cross.
And hearing it sung to all nations.
Together content as a family yet mourning our loss.

Our greatest gains counted but loss.
And contempt poured on our pride.
Bearing in our mind only the weight of the Cross.
We heard at the end in his death agony how He cried.

A tear rolled down my cheek.
But was it for him or me, what do I truly seek, I am weak.

Haiku

A tear rolls down cheek
But is it for him or me
What then do I seek