My Brother has fallen; no, I don’t know his name.
Have not the same parents still family all the same.
He lives in this town, I live in another,
It doesn’t really matter ’cause this man is my Brother.

My Brother I call him, yet I’ve never seen his face.
I have brothers and sisters all over the place!
You see I am a Firefighter and our families are one.

Around the world, a brotherhood of unity,
A closeness, a bond, most people don’t see.
I’ll watch your back; she’ll watch mine
“You go, I go,” time after time

His family’s my family, her family theirs,
We’re part of one family where everyone cares,
I’ll look after your kids, please look in on my wife,
Should that day finally come when I laid down my life.

We dedicate our lives to helping our fellow man,
Living day after day doing all that we can,
Where ever we’re needed whether nighttime or day,
To save life of another we’ll step in harms way.

My Brother has fallen doing what he loved best,
And among the Honored, he now stands with the rest
For a mile in dress uniforms here everyone stands,
For my Brother has fallen, God into your hands.

” Author Unknown “

I was perusing the firewife boards the other night and this poem had been posted. It was almost like I’d read it before. But nope, haven’t read it, just living it. It was written one day by another firewife as a form of therapy. I’m so happy she gave me permission to post it for all of you to read.

Just a Firefighter’s Wife

I sleep alone at night, so you can sleep with peace of mind…

I am the woman sitting alone at the little league game, while you hold your husband’s hand…

I sit alone at church so your house is spared from a roaring fire…

Yes, I give up my husband to who’s need is grave and dire…

I am the woman who puts her career on hold, so her kids can have at least one parent home…

While you have dinner with your husband I quietly miss my own…

I am the woman who can fix a pipe, paint a room and change a flat…

All things I had to learn along the way to save my back…

I am not a hero, don’t get paid and don’t save lives…

Don’t mind me I’m just a firefighter’s wife…

Written by and posted with permission from Diana Lucero

I’m graphically challenged which is too bad, I’d love to see something like this at our banquet!  Cool tune’s and love the pic’s changing with the beat.

The pager makes it’s beeping noise
The scanner comes to life.
You see excitement on his face
As he goes off to fight.

Regardless what you’re doing
Or whatever the current plan.
All you hear is “later hun”
As he gets those keys in hand.

You say a little prayer
That God will keep him safe.
That with all the pride and bravery
No one will make a mistake.

You know those men are Brothers,
And fiercely will protect,
The lives of each other and others–
They will truly give their best.

You and your family,
Are both loyal and true.
You keep each other company,
Waiting for him to return to you.

And when that front door opens,
With “Honey, I’m home” again,
You thank the lord he’s back home ok,
Your brave and strong fireman.

Thank you to a visitor that sent me this poem to post. If you have a poem of your own that’s fire related I’d love to post it and give you credit.

A Fireman’s Wife

A Fireman’s wife, the Padre said,
has nights of fear and days of dread
as she hopes against hope
that she can ably cope,
when the dark visions arise
from their blackened night guise
to tell of the dangers that he befell
when he answered the call of the bell.
And in her heart she hides a dread
that the day may bring a car of red
with the Padre wearing eyes full of sorrow
that say that upon the morrow
her husband, her life, will not return
and her soul will burn, her soul will burn.
Burdens more than a wife should endure
but her motives purely simple and simply pure.
She Loves Him.
Or in tears she will quietly be by his side
that day when a comrade has fallen, has died,
because it was his friend, the one who fell
and did not again hear the ringing of the bell.

She must show him her love but not the hurt that she does feel,
or the pain that she quiet suffers when from his grief he does heal,
or nary tell him that she kneels every dark night
after sunset, before the morn’s dewy light
willing his return to their happy home.
(Come home, come home, oh please come home.)
To the wife, the Padre quietly went on,
I vow the fear and the dread will be gone
when the morning sun comes with no car of red
and he is home safe, safe in his bed.
Show him your love and show him your pride
held within your heart that you feel inside
because he is your husband and he is the one
who does a hard job, one that must be done.
In a garden of colour that lifted her soul
he brought her some comfort,(which was his goal.)
The Padre said to the fireman’s wife
“A woman who chooses to live such a life
must accept times full of fun and also full of pain
as well as times full of sun and times full of rain.
But know that the yoke that you quietly wear
is also a great burden that he too must share.
Be content with some comfort, for it be true
and do not be troubled nor your life should you rue
for your husband though he leads a valiant life,
holds higher than the heavens, you, his wife
and he would be resolute and first to agree
that you are the much braver, far braver than he.”

D.M.Bowles