She walks through the mists late at night

Lost in pain, trying to diengage from the

Constant piercing of her mind and soul.

Behind her drags her heart - bloody, disfigured,

Yet still faintly beating.  Its weight is so

Great that it belabors every step and

Cries out with each labored breaath taken.

Long beyond emotion her footsteps follow

An invisible path, known only by those

Who have gone before.

The mist turns into dense fog -

Trees dripping cold drops of

Sympathy upon her as she feels her

Way through the oblivion.

No sounds except for the

Labored beating of the dying heart.

No tears left.

A certain numbness taking their place.

She has chosen the path of diengagement -

Fallen one too many times with the

Dashing of hope.

This is her death walk.

Her solemn choice to irrevocably

Turn from a life of agony and torment and

In its stead seek the eternal point of

No return.

Any memories of life before are

Cause for pain -

Times of love,

Times of laughter,

Times of being in love -

Rejection, abandonment,

Charges that she is crazy.

They all cancel each other out.

She no longer knows who she really is

Nor who shou could have become.

At best there is a great meloncholy springing forth

From a strong sense of failure.

Good times ruined by her madness.

Super-human ability to sabotage all things good.

Trust gone in herself, in others, in God.

There is no safe harbor for a

Shredded soul.

With each step she weakens.

Her batter hear slows it beat.

She must almost be there.

Falling to her knees, she crawls but a few yards more

And then collapses.

Releasing her last breath, the last beat of her heart.

Her remains were found three days later -

A necklace with a crucifix, a rosary, and

A heart which will utter

No account of her journey for an

Eternity.