Open...
Can you hear them?

A little bird opens its beak,
and morning pours into the world
A flower opens after rain,
and something whispers from within
A snake lifts up its silver tongue
A beetle turns beneath a leaf
Everything that opens here
has something holy underneath

Come closer
Don't be afraid
You only have to listen
when the little mouths awake

There is a god in every mouth,
waiting to be heard
In every beak,
in every bloom,
in every broken thing

There is a god in every mouth
So open
Open gently
Let the hidden voices in

Speak...
Little mouth, little god
Speak...
I am listening

The fruit splits open in the heat,
sweet and wet upon the ground
The ants arrive in shining lines
to carry little prayers away
A wound opens upon my hand
The red runs softly down my wrist
I hold it underneath the rain
and wait to hear what speaks through it

Hush now
The blood is talking.
Hush now
Don't interrupt

There is a god in every mouth,
waiting to be heard
In every beak,
in every bloom,
in every broken thing

There is a god in every mouth
So open
Open gently
Let the hidden voices in

Speak...
Little mouth, little god
Speak...
I am listening

The frog calls once beneath the roots
The river answers from the dark
A dying deer exhales so slow,
as if the forest breathes through it
Its mouth is open
Its eyes are still
I kneel beside its cooling face
Something warm leaves with the breath
Something older stays behind

Thank you

They say a mouth is made for words
But words are such a little thing

The rain speaks without any tongue
The roots speak without any sound
The wound speaks
The flower speaks
The dead speak
The mud speaks
And when they do, I bow my head
Because I know who speaks through them

Every opening is a doorway.
Every doorway has a voice
Every voice belongs to something
older than our little names

Every opening is a doorway
Every doorway has a voice
Every voice...

If I opened my mouth wide enough,
would they speak through me too?
If I emptied out my little words,
would there be room for something true?
If I gave them all my breath,
would I finally hear them clearly?

Would they whisper?
Would they sing?
Would they call me by my hidden name?

I hope they do

Open the flower
Open the fruit
Open the wound
Open the mouth
Open the earth
Open the bone
Open the river
Open me
Open...

There is a god in every mouth,
and now I hear them singing
In every beak,
in every bloom,
in every broken thing

There is a god in every mouth
And every mouth is holy
Every opening is sacred
Every silence has a tongue

There is a god in every mouth

You hear nothing?
Oh...
Maybe you are listening
with the wrong ears

Open...