The sounds of the alarm wakes me,
Two hours of sleep, not enough, but more than enough.
Jumping into my gear, thoughts went spinning through my head.
I then bounded into the bright red fire truck.
Siren blaring, lights flashing, we headed down the deserted dark streets.
A block away, the flames and smoke were bellowing up through the clouds.
We pulled up and the confusion began,
Time seemed to stop.
Through the second story window, I heard a mother and her child screaming.
I had heard this scream many times before, but it never failed to touch my heart.
I sprang into action,
Busting down the door,
Lugging the heavy hose,
Breathing deeply.
Making my attempt to climb the stairs,
I felt the sweat dripping off my face inside my mask.
The flames were quickly making their way through the walls,
As fast as the water blasted through the hose, the flames seemed to be faster and stronger.
Hearing her muffled scream made me give it all I had,
Forgetting about the flame engulfed door, I rammed with all my might against it,
The door fell in just as the woman collapsed with the child in her arms.
I gathered the baby in my arms first,
Then fighting my way to the window,
I opened it and handed the small still child to the man on the ladder.
The mother was the next one to be handed out the window,
I waited until I saw them both get to the ground safely before I reached down for the hose.
I then made my way to the window for the third time,
Unfortunately I did not make it,
The last thing I heard was an eardrum blasting explosion.
The mother and her child apparently survived and are living a normal life again,
I think she visits my grave often,
Because I can feel her warmth and kindness through her prayers.
I know I’m not the only fire fighter who would risk their lives to save others,
If I could relive that day, I would do the same thing.
My one wish to you, is that the next time you say a prayer, you take a few seconds to
Remember the fire fighters of today and of yesterday,
I only ask this of you so they might remember how special and important they are.


Greta Tessman
3-8-95
English 8
Mrs. Rowe
Career Poem