I'm A Policeman
By John T. Sutton
I’m a policeman, Oh why? you may ask.
It’s not that the pay is well worth the task.
It’s something deep down, it’s something inside.
It’s not just a job where you’re there for the ride.
The dangers we face, we know they’re for real.
But it’s not just a job, it’s something you feel.
We’re out on the beat, it’s late at night.
This is the time when families fight.
Shouting and cursing, then comes a hit.
A loud screaming child, a mad raging fit.
We come on the scene there’s not a set play.
We have to assess with our fears pushed away.
There’s darting eyes and another door.
Can we see all the people or are there more?
A bang and a crash come from the back.
Is someone else there to take a crack?
We take control but it’s never easy.
The mess and the people can make you feel queasy.
We return to the beat and hope it’s all right.
But we know we’ll be back for the very next fight.
A stop light runner and a simple chase.
But we never know what we may face.
Another bad drunk? A kid on a high?
Or something much worse to give us a try?
We can’t take it easy, we can’t take a chance.
Always a new tune, always a new dance.
There’s racial tensions and rights to uphold.
We have to show patience but yet appear bold.
It’s easier to say that “all must be fair.”
When you’re not on the street, when you’re not the one there.
Those feelings of pressure we must put aside.
With our actions up front and keeping our pride.
It’s harder on family than it is on me.
Their imagined worst fear are all that they see.
I’m on the job and handling it well.
But they’re safe at home imagining hell.
When the telephone rings and it’s late at night.
They wake in a sweat with a terrible fright.
But their awful thoughts I must leave at the station.
‘Cause they might dull my senses and force hesitation.
So why do I do it? Where is the joy?
There’s people who smile, a found little boy.
There’s laughter and friendship with people who care.
There’s knowing a difference just ’cause we’re there.
There’s sunshine and sadness and having the nerve.
To get up each morning and say that ” I serve.”