Not the sound of a cock crowing
I listen for the sound
Not the sound of Pilate washing his hands
I listen for the sound
Not the sound of a whip lashing an innocent back
I listen for the sound
Not the sound of thuds as a soldiers fist smashes cheek and bone
I listen for the sound
Not the sound of a cross dragged, gravelling through cobbled streets
I listen for the sound
Is it the sound of dice thrown by greedy hands
I listen for the sound
Is it the sound of nails driven in by vicious hands
I listen for the sound
Is it the sound of tears from a mother in comforting hands
I listen for the sound
Is it the sound of thunder introducing a sky of black pitch
I listen for the sound
Is it the sound of a curtain ripped to shreds in the heart and in the temple
I listen for the sound
Is it the voice that says “Forgive them for they know not what they do”
I listen for the sound
The sound that says IT IS FINISHED.