Is There Balm in Gilead?

There are nights I wake
Only to sob,
There are nights I wake
Screaming your name.
It is your face that
Haunts my dreams,
Your sweet smile,
The sounds of your voice,
The smell of your hair.
It is your name that still
Lies carved in my chest,
Hidden beneath a shirt that’s more
like a veil of mourning.
I must confess,
There is no greater pain,
No sorrow that can surpass,
No grief that overpowers
What I feel in your wake.
It is a horrible cold
Seeping through my bones
And infecting my heart
Where you used to sit and smile.
Is there balm in Gilead?
If I succumb to this
Piercing ache,
Will I be accepted into
Warm, loving arms?
If I lay down to sleep,
My arms crossed over my chest
In a wave farewell,
And a hello to the unknown,
Will you be waiting for me at the gates?

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