Lord, Help Me

She looks down at the lifeless body of her son,
Her child, her only one,
He lies clutching the bread he had gone to buy,
She can only ask why,
The bullet lodged in his back pushes out his blood,
And it lies beneath him like a flood,
This is too much for her to see,
She kneels down and cries, “Lord help me!”

When it strikes him, he feels the pain,
Now the gunshots are like a distant sound in the rain,
The warlord’s machete is lodged firmly in his neck,
And the blood trickles down his back,
He knows today is the day he will die,
Yet he is only nine,
He asks how this can be,
Then he begs of God, “Lord help me!”

She could see the floods ride higher,
The little space on her roof only got colder,
She held her baby close to her,
She promised him no matter what, she’d be there,
She didn’t see the wave that threw her,
And parted him from her,
As the current swept him further than she could see,
In tears she begged, “Lord, help me.”