FIREFIGHTERS ANSWER THE CALL

By: Betty Kepka Schultz

On September eleven, Two-thousand-one,
A Tuesday morning had just begun.
It was not like any other Tuesday,
Nor like any other day at all.
Many of us heard the siren's wail
As you made way to
Answer the Call.

"Oh, God! Oh God!" in disbelief people cry,
"The Towers are ablaze high in the sky!"
Debris sifts down like ashen rain.
Paper drifts to Brooklyn three miles away.
Smoke billows from blown-out windows! People fall!
And you are there, with tear-filled eyes,
Answering the Call.

With mask and gear you take the stairs,
Going up floor after floor.
"God, please help us save them," you pray,
While opening door after door.
"We will, we must!" is the "Code of All".
And you are there, as you always are,
Answering the Call

On your way up, frightened people come down
Seeking safety from the inferno above.
"Is it clear to ground level?" you hear them ask,
As they scrunch to the side, allowing you to pass.
You want to assist but your job is ahead,
To find the injured, the trapped and the dead.
With a nod you trudge on, as you always do,
When answering the Call.

Above you, the Tower's a blazing furnace,
And with a shudder, its one hundred and ten stories fall.
No longer a floor beneath you,
You go down to "Ground Zero",
While answering the Call.

From out of the rubble
God's angels lift you,
To the Highest Tower of All.
And there, from His Kingdom,
You keep a watchful eye
On comrades
Answering the Call.

Your names are now written
In the great book, "Heroes of All time".
Your memories linger within this thread of life
And are forever in our hearts and minds.

By Betty Kepka Schulz ©September 11 2001