Yellow tape binds the summit of the hill,
Where the frantic urban noise is suddenly still.
Not forensic chalk, but heavy dust and stone,
Surround the spot where the Innocent hung alone.
The air is thick with a silence hard to bear,
A haunting scene of absolute despair.
Three rough-hewn posts, abandoned in the heat,
The final tragic chapter of a forced defeat.
The ground is marked by iron spikes and blood,
A broken dream washed away in sorrow’s flood.
No evidence of hope, just jagged thorns,
And the cold indifference of a new day's dawns.
The crowd has fled, the mocking tongues are gone,
Leaving only death upon the dusty lawn.
A mother’s silent shriek, a shattered king,
To this bleak scene, where only shadows cling.
Here lie the artifacts of mercy’s end,
Where cruel betrayal broke the truest friend.
Oh, crime scene Calvary, with broken wood,
Where evil triumphed, as the demons would.
The evidence is clear, a murder in the light,
The Son of Man put down by endless night.
A crime so absolute, a tragedy so deep,
That even heavy hearts are left to weep.
But in the silence, a tremor starts to wake,
The empty air begins to bend and shake.
A mystery resides beneath the bloody clay,
That turns the scene of ruin to a brighter day.
The tapes are ripped, the silent stone is moved,
And love, through death, has ultimate proved.