How/Why I got involved
My EMS Life
My Fire Life
The Final Inspection
Blood upon the shield
The Police Officer
The EMT Prayer
Who can Our Kids Look To?
St. Florian's Prayer
Fire & Ice
& Women of Character
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A call for help goes out at three,
Setting off pagers all over town.
Somewhere, an unknown 1050
And the dispatcher cannot calm down.
Rescuers leap out of their beds
Leaving with no backward glances.
They can only guess what's ahead
As they leave in fire trucks and ambulances.
The ambulance departs the station
As the dispatcher repeats the address.
"The injured require extrication,
And most of all ALS."
inside, they feel so empty,
Not knowing what awaits.
Also, unsettling urgency--
They're responsible for other's fates.
Dread reaches out icy claws
As they hear the latest news.
Officers are requesting the "jaws"
And even more backup crews.
Firefighters are also on the way--
Hearts racing, a touch of fear.
"Jaws of life, what's your ETA?"
Less than a minute, now they're here.
The police were first on the scene
Controlling and directing traffic
And updating the rest of the team
(Although the sight makes them sick.)
The scene is a wicked nightmare,
Broken glass and plastic litter the ground.
There's twisted metal everywhere
And the odor of ETOH all around.
The images are horrifying, grotesque
Lit by red and blue flashing lights.
Worse than anyone had guessed--
It will haunt them of many nights.
One young man, on his way home,
Didn't see the stop sign.
The mini van he T-boned
Couldn't move in time.
20 years old-too young to drink
He'd said he was sober-- it was a lie.
he left the party, his friends didn't think
That he'd be DUI.
Crushed and slumped against the wheel
Was the driver of the van.
Dead of injuries he didn't feel,
An innocent family man.
Crumpled against the passenger door
Lay his broken and battered wife,
Her cries faded and were no more
As she passed out of this life.
A scream echoes on the icy breeze
From out of a shallow grave
Despite the efforts of the EMT's
It will be a third life they cannot save.
Curled up in a heap
The child is discovered in the wreck.
He may have only been asleep--
Except for his broken neck.
The young driver staggers form his car,
Bleeding from a cut on his arm.
He watches the scene from afar
As he's suffered no major harm.
An officer sees him standing there
And gives him a breathalyzer test.
Ignoring the boy's glassy stare
Says; "Son your under arrest."
When hopes of survivors were almost gone
And it seemed pointless to try
They heard a sound that drove them on--
A weak and scared child's cry
She looked like a porcelain doll
With pale hair and a button nose.
Skin so white, body not hurt at all--
Like a lonely white rose.
They pulled her free and began care
Of this child of barely three.
Fortunately, she was unaware
That she'd lost her family.
Hours later, the street is clean--
All traces of tragedy gone.
Rescuers slowly depart the scene
But memories don't fade with dawn.
The boy is taken to jail,
Where he beats his fist against the tile.
His mother cannot afford his bail,
And so he'll remain until his trial.
His mother, with eyes downcast,
Had tried to leave but he'd caught her.
"What's wrong? What is it?" he'd asked.
She cried and said "Vehicular Manslaughter."
For 17 years, the man had cried
Consumed with guilt and sorrow.
At times, he wished he had died
So he wouldn't face another tomorrow.
At last, he was being released
From years and years of Hell.
The pain of the accident never ceased
And never would, he could tell.
As soon as he was out, he found the graves
Of the people he had killed.
Their deaths haunted all his days
And left a void that couldn't be filled.
He is laying flowers on the ground
Next to each headstone.
He hears a voice and spins around
And discovers he's not alone.
Behind him is the one he didn't kill.
He shares the anguish she knows.
Drawn her against his will,
He gives her One White Rose.
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Revised: 04 Sept 2001 2356 Hrs EST -5:00GMT