The Drop of Blood

I saw a cardinal in a tree

On Good Friday afternoon.

The flash of crimson captured me

As he sang his pure, high tune.

The tree was straight; its bark was brown.

The forest behind was dim.

Startling color near the crown,

The cardinal perched on a limb.

Red as the drops of blood was he

That clung to the cross that day.

When darkness crept around that tree,

Death stole our reason to pray.

When, as that day slid towards night,

Pulsing from that rough-hewn tree,

One small, red flame alone burned bright,

The Creator’s heart poured out for me.

But then the cardinal lifted his voice

Proclaiming to everyone

“Darkness and death have no more choice;

Corruption is now undone!”

Through drops of blood upon the wood,

The death of the Seed restored

God’s creation, pure and good,

For this his life was outpoured.

God has taken back all He has made

Away from the evil one’s grasp.

Of death, we are no longer afraid.

Renewal is promised at last.

Due to my heart being in tune,

This message was brought to me

On Good Friday afternoon

By one red cardinal in a tree.

By Heather J. Willis, author