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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.