Don’t go out in the rain my son
your feet will get wet
you may catch a cold
wrap yourself warmly
there is snow on the ground
I will make soup, my son,
for your soul
don’t cry child
I am here
I won’t leave you in
this the dark
it was just a dream child
don’t worry
I lay with in the night
yes you may play
but away from the streets
for I fear
you’d get hurt
and that I can’t have that
that boy he is
cruel, your ears are just
perfect
God gave you those ears
and he gave you to us
Your our gift from above
don’t go in the streets
my son
not in this storm
bullets it rains
and blood is being borne
do my tears mean nothing
my child that I suckled
He played in the streets
now he is martyred
my child
lies asleep
and I am not with him
I think I’ll lie down
and wake not again
they say that I sent him
to his death that day.
We fed him and clothed him
and held him at night
never a moment
never a moment out of our minds
not in their studies
or in their play
not in the nightmares of
the coming day
When the world was
to him cruel
our hearts would break
We told them how God
never makes a mistake
and now that their blood
fills our streets
they say
we sent him to die
how could they think
my son died
with our blessings
leaving my arms
empty forever
this is the day I sit and
I wonder
did God make an error
or am I just dreaming
and will I awake
to find him just sleeping?
