Cruz de Ferro

Appearing out of the mist, like a wraith, an iron cross sits atop a monolith. Thrusting upwards through a mountain of stones, it points to the heavens, saying “come, lay your troubles at my feet.” And every stone or bauble or trinket, placed there by a weary traveler, holds a lifetime of burdens, willingly surrendered, offering a new beginning. Like the petals of a rose, one by one, my troubles wither and fall to the ground, there to be rendered unto dust by time and wind and rain.