Open Poem by Rebekah Gamble

I feel so caged,
yet, I am open,
like the field
before my eyes.
The birds sing
and complement
my open field
which is happiness,
although I am misery.
Raining from hell above,
the misery traps me
behind invisible bars
of despair and hopelessness.
I am a fallen angel
risen from the grave
of joyous melancholy.
I am devoured
in endless hope
of wretched stone
and voices of anger
under a sky of dust.
This tension in my body
belongs, not in this field,
but in a jar
under my bed.
But now, now?
The jar is broken
the glass, made of sharp clarity,
are shards deep in my chest.
And I?
I am the field.
Open, cut, used.
I see the field's secret.
We share pain-
in open honesty.
We are honest.
We are open.

written 6.16.o5