There comes a moment in every journey of unlearning when the silence becomes honest — and terrifying. A moment when the old layers fall away, and you realize you are standing alone in the open, with nothing left to hide behind.
This prose-poem was born from that place.
It speaks to the ache and awe of being fully seen, not by others, but by your own unarmored self. To the grief of release and the quiet, unfolding joy of finally breathing freely.
For those walking the path of deconstruction — spiritual, personal, or otherwise — may this piece be a mirror, a companion, or simply a soft place to rest.
“Standing Naked in an Open Field”
(A prose-poem for the deconstructing heart)
I stood, alone in the open field,
stripped of the armour I was told was skin.
The wind, once a threat, now whispers:
“This is what air feels like.”
I shiver—not from cold, but from the terror of being truly seen.
No more hiding behind borrowed words,
no more swallowing questions like communion wafers.
Just me, the earth, and the sky, vast and indifferent in its kindness.
The chains were heavy, but familiar.
Their weight carved grooves into my bones,
made me forget how my own legs could move.
Now, unshackled, I sway—
not because I’m unsteady,
but because I’m learning balance for the first time.
I kneel, press my palms to the dirt.
This is not prayer.
This is touching the world without flinching.
Here, I am small.
Here, I am infinite.
The field stretches in all directions.
I could walk forever.
I could lie down and let the grass stitch my name into the ground.
For the first time, the choice is mine.
And though the horizon is dizzying,
I realize:
this is not emptiness.
This is room to breathe.
From my field to yours.
With Love,
Meagan