There is a balm in Gilead
or so goes the song,
but
where on earth is Gilead?
Somewhere in modern Jordan
among the mountains
where trees did grow
whose resin provided
a healing – a balm –
a soothing salve –
there, then, is the geographical
of our Gileads, our safe, healing
places, our sacred, set aside
spaces, our finish-line
races, our no-more-put-through our
paces, our sought-for-in-the-crowd
faces
for
wither Thou art,
O God,
there be my Gilead
