I am the voice that cuts the dark,
a steady thread through panic's spark.
No flashing lights, no uniform
just words I weave into a storm.
A whispered help, a shattered scream,
a nightmare breaking through a dream.
I guide them blind through fear and flame,
and sometimes never learn their name.
I hold the hands I cannot see,
through phones that buzz with tragedy.
A mother bleeding, baby's cry,
a stranger gasping not to die.
I count the beats, I beg them: stay,
while sirens wail from far away.
And when the silence fills the line,
I pray it’s not their final time.
But joy breaks through in quiet ways
a child born as the morning plays,
a pulse revived by shaking hands,
a breath returned from death’s demands.
These moments no one else will hear,
I keep them close, I hold them near.
For every call that ends too soon,
there’s one that hums a different tune.
I’ll bear the weight, I’ll take the strain,
the echoing of distant pain.
I’ll be the calm, the steady tone
the voice they hear when they’re alone.
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Author:
Mary73223 (
Offline) - Published: July 22nd, 2025 20:47
- Comment from author about the poem: I started working as an emergency dispatcher about a year ago. The work can be stressful, and I needed to express that stress somehow. So If you're reading this I hope you enjoy.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Poetic Licence, sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments3
That's a beautiful write of some the situations they can find themselves in doing an incredibly important and selfless job, nicely expressed and written
Unsung heros and heroins that like other health care workers do their jobs in the shadows to save lives. A well written poem of awareness nicely done
Beautiful
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