135: When the Dead Return

Some times the needle stings.

Some times the fabric rips.

Some times the thread snaps.

And some times the dead come back to make us crawl through shadows on hands and knees until the rocks are stained with griefs and the walls echo with words unsaid and thoughts unspoken. On we crawl, mechanically, to the light of a new day.

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Written by: Katrine Hjulstad

Instagram: @katrinehjulstad

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Note: Originally published with The Quarantine Journal.

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Publisher's note: Please note that all poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been seen by our editors, and that the editors have suggested revisions where they see fit, but we believe that it is ultimately the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions and take no responsibility for which suggestions they accept or reject.