The Fireman​

Issue 17

I’ve lost
my faith.
 
I thought that justice,
or logic or even
 
goodness would prevail.
I was wrong.
 
How could I think
otherwise, been so
 
wrong?  I knew the job
was tough, not open
 
to anyone lacking
in guts, in spine.
 
I was not
afraid of the flames,
 
the heat, the fire,
but it was the dead
 
child, still
clinging to the bear
 
that took my soul
to places where
 
no soul should have
to go. St. Eustace,
 
help me to mount
the truck again,
 
don the hat
and suit, grab
 
the hose,
the ax.
 
I know that you
too lost children,
 
yet had to choose
action, unclear paths, duty.
 
This child was
not truly mine, but all
 
are truly mine, my job
to save. Please tell me
 
there will be other children,
saved, who will get to laugh,
 
who can run
toward the light safely,
 
full of life, laughter,
motion and grace.

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John Peter Beck, raised in a mill town on Lake Michigan in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, is a recently retired professor in the labor education program at Michigan State University where he still co-directs a program that focuses on labor history and the culture of the workplace, Our Daily Work/Our Daily Lives.

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