At nineteen I began my journey,
Down the road I chose.
To be a protector of the rights,
Though, danger it would pose.

Just a kid, some would say,
wearing that badge and gun.
I promised to uphold the law,
Until the job was done.

My Mom and Dad were very proud,
Their praise would never stop.
The little blonde haired son they raised,
Had chosen to become a cop.

It didn't take long for me to see,
What the job was to entail,
The senseless crimes that man commits,
That sends his soul to Hell.

Robbery, Rape and Homicide,
The victims haunt me still,
I became a part of each of them,
Their pain, it seems, I feel.

For many years I walked the beat,
Dealing day and night,
With more tragedy than most would see,
In their entire life.

I was taught to be the strong one,
I could not weep when others cried,
I must be strong and do the job,
The emotion I must hide.

I was not to fear as others did,
When facing certain danger.
I became accustomed to tragedy,
And suspected every stranger.

Don't sit with your back to the door,
Don't sleep to sound to hear,
Be prepared for anything,
Always keep your pistol near.

Don't back down, Never give up,
Don't let them see you sweat.
When finished with the murder scene,
The victim's face, forget.

Now I'm haunted by these memories,
Children, Women and Men,
I meet them in my dreams at night,
I re-live those days again.

No one knows the pain inside,
I've learned to hide it well,
faceless victims of a thousand crimes,
Each tells an eerie tale.

Images and feelings often return,
My memory they stain,
Was there something more I could have done,
To help them ease their pain.

Help me God and teach me,
To deal with every day,
And thank you Lord for hearing me,
Every time I pray.

By

Kevin Hale

Used with Special Permission of the Author
Copyright © 1998 - All Rights Reserved
and may not be duplicated without permission