Her beating heart, so tired now, nerves worn thin with worrying,
Her legs, led her, running on empty, to the place
where she could rest ;
A clearing
The ground lay soft and welcoming,
Leaves would cover her.
She would look up through trees
to the heavens
what did Wilde say ?
" that little patch of blue
that prisoners call the sky "
He suffered.
My how he must have suffered.
She offered up a prayer of thanks
for all the love
all the love and suffering
bravely borne and conveyed so beautifully
that brought her to this place
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