You were a whore when I met you, Ruhamah.
Standing on the side of the road with that old,
Worn out grin, handled skin, amphetamine-induced sickly levity
Leering through my jeans to the content of my back pocket.
One hand rested slightly above your ill-fitting halter top,
Stroking your breast, that lewd gesture meant to impress my pupils,
Suggest the completion of a fantasy not meant for me.
Every scent of you reeked of use and abused virtue,
Misused beauty, refused worth, repulsive, disgusting, and annoying.

I wanted to get away.
I wanted to help and heal.
But it wasn't pity that led me to woo.
Love drew your heart on mine,
An unlikely design to the mind.

I called you by your name, Ruhamah.
You wanted to be young, Ruhamah.
You were clean and new and pure and wholly my bride, Ruhamah.

I didn't lie when I promised to love you always.
Our days were happy, children grew and knew our care.
You had forgotten the dark lair of your past,
All your prostitute clothing cast in garbage heaps of forgetfulness,
Or so I thought, or maybe just wished.

You were fished from my bed with the same lure that fed you before,
Back to the door of paying customers, hustlers, pimps,
Temptational candied filth filled your mouth.
You opened your legs to the dregs of violent men,
And I found you again.
Turned back into the repulsive, spitting convulsion like the thing you craved,
Slaved, and payed your beauty for.
Once again, a whore.

Oh, Lord, there is no truth or mercy, or intimacy with You in this land,
We don't even understand what it means that You're real.
We steal and kill for our self-fulfilling wills,
Eating our fills of each other's adulterous flesh,
Fresh and putrid the stench as we break free of past restraints,
Murders piling upon one another, rage for our fellow brother,
We smother them with contempt to deaden
Remorse at how we destroy little boys and girls,
Corrupt precious, sacred pearls of the future.
We have secured a funeral of mourning.

Oh, return to me, Ruhamah.
Leave your perversion, your deadly diversion.
Remember the embers of my embrace,
Your tender face, in the place of forgiveness.
Until you confess your wrong, turn to the song I am singing,
I will expose your lovers, sleeping between your withered breasts,
Uncover your wretched nakedness and shame,

How I long to call you by your name, Ruhamah.
To come and wash you in the rain, Ruhamah.
Here are linen dresses to clothe you in youth, Ruhamah.

I have wounded you, but I will heal.
It's not pity that I feel as I bandage your lacerations,
Rub ointment on your contusions,
Breathe life in your collapsing lungs
So you can live with me again,
Know my touch, be safe, be restored.
I don't want your abstinence sacrifices.
I want all of you, America.