With Poetry: Easter in Shadows.

Daily writing prompt

How do you use social media?

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Upon the hill where lilies dare not bloom,
A crown of thorns bears silent, crimson weight.
The stone still hums with echoes from the tomb,
While angels weep at heaven’s narrow gate.

The cross stands dark against a mourning sky,
Its wood soaked deep in mankind’s aching sin.
A mother’s tears, too sacred now to dry,
Fall softly where the nails had once dug in.

The empty grave—so full of sacred loss—
Speaks not of life, but what He left behind.
His robe lies folded near the heavy cross,
A hush that stirs the soul, but not the mind.

And yet, beyond the veil of sorrow’s breath,
A whisper stirs: love crucified won’t fade.
For in the hollow silence carved by death,
The seeds of mercy bloom beneath the blade.