In the near past I have had a few occasions to face the choice of self-sacrifice or self-preservation. As hard as that decision is, the more it becomes apparent you must face it, the more you must be ready to step between the people throwing punches, the more you must call the attention of an enraged attacker to yourself over their intended target, and the more you must ignore what it is you have to lose. Thus, in this short poem, I imagine myself facing the flames of conflict. I, after all, am Mickey too.
The Fire Fighter
The man in the red hat…
Sometimes he stood there…
Looking at the fire…
Measuring the fire…
Then he picked up the hose,
And marched into the fire…
Knowing he would burn…
To save a home…
Save a building…
Save a life…
Because it was the right thing to do.
Now I am standing…
Looking into the fire…
Measuring the fire…
It is hot and horrid…
It will burn and kill…
And I have to pick up the hose,
And march into the fire…
Knowing I will burn…
To save the future…
To save hope…
To save a life…
Because it is the right thing to do…
And there is no other choice.
Catch a Falling Star 