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CITZENS FIRE COMPANY NO. 1 OF MIDDLEPORT, PENNSYLVANIA
FIRE FIGHTERS POETRY
DEDICATE TO A FIRE FIGHTER MOM IN THE HEAT OF THE DAY, IN THE DEAD OF THE NIGHT, A CRASH IN THE ROAD OR A FIRE TO FIGHT, THE BAD, THE WORST ONES, SHE GOES TO THEM ALL. WHEN THE SIGNAL GOES OUT, SHE ANSWER THE CALL, NONE OF THE PEOPLE DIFFERENT FROM YOU, TIMES SHE DON'T LOVE IT. IT'S JUST WHAT SHE DOES, NEVER SURE WHAT THE PROBLEMS SHE MAY FACE AND WHAT SHE MAY SEE THAT TIME CAN'T ERASE. SOMEHOW WHEN SOMEONE'S LIFE IS ON THE LINE, EVEN A HOME FULL OF MEMORIES BUILT UP OVER TIME. HER HEART STARTS PUMPING, HER ADRENALIN FLOWS NEVER STOPPING TO THINK SHE JUST GOES. FOR THOSE MEN AND THOSE WOMEN THAT ARE THE CHOSEN FEW, THE BLOOD IN THEIR VANES MAKE THEM DO WHAT THEY DO. IT'S A JOURNEY OF DANGER WHEN SHE'S ON HER WAY AND GRABBING A FRACTION OF TIME SHE MIGHT PRAY, LORD LET HER SKILLS GET IN THERE AND FIGHT, BLEND IN WITH HER KNOWLEDGE TO DO HER JOB RIGHT AND LORD, I KNOW SHE MAY FACE THE EXTREME. I PRAY TO YOU O LORD, KEEP YOUR HANDS ON HER TEAM, DON'T LET HER EXPIRE THERE, FOR SHE BELONGS TO RESCUE AND FIRE. DEDICATED TO FIREFIGHTER CHRIS KNORR ON MOTHER'S DAY 2006 BY HER DAUGHTER STACY KNORR					GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN BROTHER WHEN YOU WEEP FOR ME, REMEMBER THAT IT WAS MEANT TO BE. LAY ME DOWN IT WHEN YOU LEAVE, REMEMBER I'LL BE AT YOUR SLEEVE. IN EVERY DARK AND CHOKING HALL, I'LL BE THERE AS YOU SLOWLY CALL. ON EVERY ROOF IN DRIVING SNOW, I'LL HOLD YOUR COAT AND YOU WILL KNOW. IN CELLARS HOT WITH SEARING HEAT, AT WINDOWS WHERE A GATE YOU MEET, IN CLOSET WHERE YOUR CHILDREN HIDE. YOU KNOW I'LL BE THERE AT YOUR SIDE. THE HOUSE FROM WHICH I NOW RESPOND, IS OVER STAFFED WITH HEROES GONE, MEN WHO ANSWERED ONE LAST BELL, DID THE JOB AND DID IT WELL. AS FIREMEN WE UNDERSTAND, THE DEATH'S A CARD DEALT IN OUR HAND, A CARD WE HOPE WE NEVER PLAY, BUT ONE WE HOLD THERE ANYWAY. THAT CARD IS SOMETHING WE IGNORE, AS WE CRAWL ACROSS A WEAKENED FLOOR, FOR ANYONE WHO MIGHT BE THERE. SO REMEMBER AS YOU WIPE YOUR TEARS, THE JOY I KNEW THROUGHOUT THE YEARS, AS I DID THE JOB I LOVED TO DO. I PRAY THE THOUGHT WILL SEE YOU THROUGH. IN MEMORY OF ALL FIREFIGHTERS WHO GAVE THEIRS LIVES. YOU ARE NOT FORGOTTEN
WHAT IS A FIREMAN? HE'S THE GUT NEXT DOOR - A MAN'S MAN WITH THE MEMORY OF A LITTLE BOY. HE HAS NEVER GOTTEN OVER THE EXCITEMENT OF ENGINES. HE'S A GUT LIKE YOU AND ME, WITH WARTS AND WORRIES, AND UNFULFILLED DREAMS. YET HE STANDS TALLER THAN MOST OF US, HE PUTS IT ALL ON THE LINE WHEN THE BELL RINGS. A FIREMAN IS AT ONCE THE MOST FORTUNATE AND THE LEAST FORTUNATE OF MEN. HE'S A MAN WHO SAVES LIVES BECAUSE HE HAS SEEN TOO MUCH DEATH. HE'S A GENTLE MAN BECAUSE HE HAS SEEN THE AWESOME POWER OF VIOLENCE OUT OF CONTROL. HE'S RESPONSIVE TO A CHILD'S LAUGHTER BECAUSE HIS ARMS HAVE HELD TOO MANY SMALL BODIES THAT WILL NEVER LAUGH AGAIN HE'S A MAN THAT APPRECIATES THE SIMPLE PLEASURES OF LIFE - HOT COFFEE HELD IN NUMB UNBENDING FINGERS - A WARM BED FOR BONE AND MUSCLE COMPLIED BEYOND FEELING. THE CAMARADERIE OF BRAVE MEN. THE DIVINE PEACE AND SELFLESS SERVICE OF A JOB. WELL DONE IN THE NAME OF ALL MEN. HE DOESN'T WEAR BUTTONS OR WAVE FLAGS AND SHOUT OBSCENITIES. WHEN HE MARCHES, IT IS TO HONOR A FALLEN COMRADE. HE DOESN'T PREACH THE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN. HE LIVES IT.