349: The Word

We walk up the hill

with the Word

printed on the base

of every tree

and rocky outcrop.

We walk

with night

creeping at our heels

and daylight

fading

over the crest.

We walk

and we walk

and we walk

until someone stops

and reads the Word.

The sun sets.

Night.

We wait.

A new sun appears.

A new night.

We start

at the base of the hill

and walk.

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Written by: Katrine Hjulstad

Instagram: @katrinehjulstad

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Publisher's note: All poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been viewed and commented on by our editors. Ultimately, however, we believe that it is the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions made by the editors, and therefore take no responsibility for the final product.