Volunteer Fire Fighter

This poem is dedicated to the men and women who volunteer their time, efforts, and sometimes their lives, so others may live.

It’s two o’clock in the morning when the pager starts to beep
And all you want to do is go peacefully back to sleep

You know you can’t and before you think you climb into your gear
Hoping not to wake the house as you head out far and near

The big red truck rolls through the night, the siren echoes loud
Through bleary eyes you look and see the reflections in the clouds

Climbing down off the truck you look into the night
And wonder how to save this house with no hydrant in your sight

Suddenly a voice rings out, chilling the smoke filled air,
“Please dear Lord, help me, my daughter’s still in there!!”

The mask goes on, the line is charged, and we rush in through the door,
On hands and knees we crawl along and can’t even see the floor

A silent prayer is said by all as we search from room to room
A prayer of mercy for this little girl that shouldn’t die so soon

We find her hiding under the bed her face covered with soot,
And rush her out of the house so the medics can take a look

I kneel beside her on one knee as they check her heart and lungs,
The medic nods up and down and I know that we have won

The fire is out, the smoke is gone, we gave this one our all
We ride back to the station to prepare for another call

We work and train for nights like this and try to do our best,
To help our neighbors when they’re down, not to stand above the rest

We make no money, have no fame, and won’t for many years,
When our time comes, we’ll be blessed, because we are Volunteers