If she could but find her way,
trace the route back to him,
she would not fail again.
Her hands would hold on,
her grasp never loosening.
Her life had become defined
by a journey that was now her own.
Leaving friends behind both now and then,
it was here where her heart survived.
Stitched and broken but again whole,
whether she died again or lived,
her place in time was forever
at the side of her once-enemy,
now the name of her soul.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017