We sit in a room...
So dark and small...
Waiting for ...
A 911 call...
We listen to your voice...
And hear your pain...
We want to help....
Although at times it seems to be in vain...
Our job isn't glamorous...
It isn't for all...
We're there to help...
When you make that call...
There's crying...
And screaming....
And small voices in pain...
That breaks our hearts....
But in that there's no shame....
To hear a small child.....
Scared because mom isn't home....
Or the voice of an old woman....
Who's husband just moans.....
We don't ask for fanfare....
Or even a cheer.....
It's enough to know....
That help is finally near.....
Our job is to help.....
To make you feel safe....
To make those long moments...
Go quickly as they came....
And at the end of the day......
When we can shut off our fears....
We get in our cars.....
And shed a few tears....
Because the next day we'll be back....
In a room dark and small....
Waiting for....
A 911 call.....
Written by:
Lawrence Roche
