Corona came to rest in the shadows of the bluffs.
She trembled, having to crawl,
her feet carrying the stain of broken blood vessels
caused by the jagged stones and mud.
Weeping like a willow, she felt triumphant.
Her prison breached, having reached the shore.
Corona wished to brush away the ache of her savaged love,
but she chose instead to nail her shattered heart to the cross she bore.
Written for The SUNDAY WHIRL – Wordle #60
THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART 