Dear Officer
by Deborah Carey
He says he's tired and hungry, the night air just too cold
He finds no point in living, he's only seventeen years old.
"Dear officer, does your heart hear what it's told?"
Blue lights illuminate the scene, broken glass beneath the feet
twisted metal, broken flesh, eyes closed in final sleep.
"Dear officer, how is it that you don't weep?"
The flames finally subsiding, more heat than one can stand
emerging from the smoking ruins, family Bible in hand.
"Dear officer, do you ache to understand?"
He stumbles down the sidewalk, the stench of liquor fills the air
a war we've long forgotten, he swears he still is there.
"Dear officer, are you even able to care?"
Her face bruised and battered, but she loves him, he's her man
you've been there before, and you'll be back, a cycle you just can't
understand
"Dear officer, is it hard to give a damn?"
Your knock echoes throughout the house, fearfilled eyes know why you're
there,
spoken words, shattered lives, news so much to bear.
"Dear officer, do you whisper their names in prayer?"
The alert tone on the radio, adrenaline rushes at the sound
shots fired, two men on the ground.
"Dear officer, why does fear not slow you down?"
In answer to your questions, sir, Yes we feel the pain
there's so much that surrounds us, so much we can't explain
We are given a sheet of armor, and a badge across our heart,
But those barriers are removed when we're alone and in the dark.
We must face each shift with a faith
that the Lord will see us through
and protect us, not only from harm,
But from all that we see and do.
Officer Deborah Carey
Johnson City Police Bureau
Johnson CIty, TN |
A Brother’s
Story
Sometimes miracles happen and
I feel one has happened to me. I have one brother and we weren’t
particularly close. As a matter of fact, I got angry and spent six
years not speaking with him. I never approved of the way he lived
and his attitudes. We fought as children, but my brother felt we
were friends. I never saw us that way.
In the last year, my brother’s life
started to unwind. He found himself depressed and anxiety-ridden
with no one to talk to. He sought counseling and a men’s’ group for
support. Slowly, these positive encounters started to change my brother.
They moved his heart. It also turned out that he had a chemical imbalance
and that was corrected with a new medication. Then something special
occurred for the first time. I can really talk with my brother and
he hears me. He listens to me and welcomes my advice. He is
glad to have me as a brother now and he tells me so. He wants to
go places with me and he is even going to spend my birthday with me.
He is also treating me to a special program in New York. We will
be spending the day together, hopefully having a good time in each other’s
company. I am really looking forward to it and I’m sure I’ll be writing
about our New York trip in a future column.
For now, I am basking in the light
of my brother’s turn around and I told him my greatest joy will be to see
him be the man I know he can be. He and I have a lot to talk about.
We can learn from each other as only brothers can. We are like two
sides of one coin. I respect the positive aspects I see my brother
has. I am waiting to see where my brother is going and where he will
eventually arrive. I have prayed to God to direct him to the right
path. I want to enjoy who he is and I want more for him. For
me to care about a brother is a new and wonderful feeling. I believed
I lost him, but I found him through God’s loving kindness.
Copyright 2000 by Harry Martin Polis
Harry is available for lectures and entertainment
with stories and poetry. Contact SCOOP USA, or e-mail Harry.
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