There is a balm in Gilead
To make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead
To heal the sin-sick soul.

Here take my hand and we’ll go dancing the round.
Time cannot hold the moment where we turn round and round.
I don’t know how to save this world or my own soul
From the fires that leap swirl lick and crunch us down.
But in the scent and sound of you I am clear and I am whole.

They spoke in ancient tongues of a love that is divine —
alive beyond the body’s pulpy, fleshy time.
I don’t know how to heal this world or my own heart
From the mires deep and cool that pull us down the line.
But when your eyes shine into mine I feel a kind’a start;
I catch myself aware, getting ready for my part.

What love is pure and true? What love does fully be?
Bend thy will to mine while I mine to thine. Bend with me.
I don’t know how to speak of love in a way that’s pure enough
to keep us out of harm, out of the twister’s reach.
But when you giggle bright and shiver like a leaf
I know a joy beyond all bounds, beyond all beliefs.

Take this thing that I’ve become, this cloak that I have worn.
Take everything I ever grew. Shake me back to the truth,
back past the hurt that blares, past ribbons lost and torn.
Take me home with you where you are going — let us loose
upon the sprawling wilds, with creatures on all sides.
we’re as a rescued child — no more need of a place to hide.

author/editor: bw/aw
copyright: AM Watson