My American land is not brave
Nor the silence of the dead who buy flowers
I open my heart to love without question or pity
I open my heart and weep because men seek the easy road of books and speeches
I extend my hand to the bosom of the earth dark and dirty
I extend my body whipped by poverty and the sky of poets
The world seeks an open soul to breathe
The world seeks
Man seeks
Woman seeks
Child seeks
The cold night seeks
The open wound that strikes at the heart
The pulse of fever in tears of lonely nights
That man has built on this earth will remain
But the bare heart and soul of creation
Among flowers of pain
And the faces of children playing in the sun
No I do not speak of power or bridges of steel
I speak now of the open wound that is the heart that is silent
The sea weaves
The feet wander
The heart ticks
The soul speaks
Open the wound and hear all that is
The lips of frightened lovers