The Village Firefighter

Beneath embered brands of burning roof, The firefighter waits. His mask is on; he’s donned his gloves, Ready to enter the fiery state. Once again to battle beast, Whose heart burns with flaming hate. On hands and knees he treads with care Over blackened brittle floor. Making way through smoke dark rooms Fighting fear from door to door. Outstretched arms reach for muffled screams Heard above the deafening roar. Hoping to find before too late, The source of curdling screams. A scenario played all too oft Within the hero’s dreams. The task at hand his only thought And the safety of his team. Crying, scared a young child waits For rescue from choking heat. Then through the blackness something tugs And pulls his trembling feet. A Vadered voice says “it’s OK” And hugs him to the street. The fire alone remains to beat; And return to fight he goes. To find the beast alive and well; Destroying, as it grows. He aims his weapon at the seat And from it water flows. The devil dies as fire gives in To the water’s cooling spray. The house is gone; but at least, No lives were lost today. So back he jumps on bright red truck, And into night he rides away. In quiet contemplation, The firefighter stares. Holding back a hundred thoughts That known might seem him scared. But he pushes fear aside, And treads where others do not dare!