Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER.
Much of the time, we live in ditches, moving along their mud trails and ooze looking for some broken place in the wall to scramble back out.
When we surface, we stop.
Sometimes we find we moved forward, towards whatever it is at the end of all the ditches – we can’t see it of course, we can’t describe or draw it with precision – and we continue, moving across the open ground until we reach the cusp of the next ditch.
Then we step out and fall, or move along the edge until we find another broken compromise in the wall to stumble down into the next dark, wet trail.
Other times we just stop and look without seeing. Behind us we know. In front, even that we feel we know, and sometimes we think we know enough to fear. Some of those times we sway and fall backwards.
Yet other times we stop in the ditch itself. There, as the light adjusts, you can see a tiny flower holding on to the wall. The flower is for you; kneel and look at it, wait here a while. The ditches won’t go away.