Broken Child

I wake up to the heat of the early morning sun,
the bright light which hurts my eyes
It has yanked me from an idealistic dream,
I can now hear the young one's cries

Missing boards let in a smell cleansing breeze,
the stench of loneliness through the room
No food or fresh water to drink,
in the air is a pending doom

Dirty, cold mud and rock,
have washed my loved one's away
There is no corner to crawl in and hide my pain,
so in the stinking rubble I must stay

I clench the family bible,
tightly in my bloodied hand
Praying to the Lord,
and trying hard to understand

I am to young to have offended you,
yet you punish me, as if a test
I have done all you have asked of me,
I have tried my very best

Mother Mary please watch over me,
for now I must close my eye's
I no longer have the strength,
to listen to the constant cries.

Nick Sym