Fraught

Haunting. Raw. Painful. Scary. Troubling. Humbling. Beautiful.

Life? Drifting, drip, drip, drip, sing. We’re intimate, alone, together.

We exist within fraught times; as in we are living in times full of unpleasant things, problems and dangers. It can be argued that it has always been thus and ever will be, and there may be a kernel of truth to that belief. A kernel, though, is not the whole story. I do not commend myself as being in any way a holder of the fullness of that story, merely a part of it. And that part I offer to you to hold.

Are you noticing beyond what you can see? Can you?
Are you confused by how you are able to be in this world?

Are you enfeebled by what happens when you bump into another part of the story that is offering only to fraught you with more than you are able to hold, to brazenly miscarry your part of the story?

Do you long for meaning or substance but are drawn moth-like to the words of sanity from one who others know to be anything but?

To be within the forest is more than just a metaphor. Yet, metaphor is able to shape our reality as we stumble forward humble in confusion, in love. Perhaps even to enable an elegant departure from our fraught; a harbour into which colourless waters flow unceasing. We are alone in this together. Now, time to read on.

In silence we tread the trail, in silence as we approach. Fraught.