Police Week poem: Messages from a fallen officer
This poem is dedicated to the memory of our fallen brothers and sisters
As we commemorate National Police Week and solemnly remember those who have been killed in the line of duty, we present this memorial poem from the PoliceOne archives by PoliceOne columnist Dan Marcou.
No police officer ever leaves home at night thinking, “Tonight I’m going to be killed in the line of duty.” Yet the memorial wall is filled with the names of thousands of officers who did leave home, never to return.
What would they say if they were allowed one opportunity to send a short note to the significant people in their lives?
I’ve tried to put myself in the shoes of a fallen officer and construct words for those left behind after their tragic and sudden exodus. This poem is dedicated to the memory of our fallen brothers and sisters.
Messages from a Fallen Officer
To My Partner
You did all that you could, I fell and you stood.
You know sadness was never my style.
Those were the cards that we drew, nothing else more to do,
Except remember me, friend, with a smile.
To My Spouse
Don’t think me gone, but away, though I wish I could stay,
I’m not there, but our love did not end.
We had faith, we had love, sure as God is above
I feel your love from here that you send.
To My Children
I know for you it is hard to be alone in the yard
In that place where we laughed and we played.
My girl, my boy, know you still give me joy,
Live your life as I did, unafraid.
To Officers Left Behind
Each day you hit the street to cover your beat,
Prepare for the dangers you face.
Train hard, wear your vest, you’ll be put to the test.
Each day with your family embrace.
To the Criminals
Now that I’m here and God’s plan is so clear
To you, there is but one thing to say.
You steal, rape and kill and abuse your free will
Your time will come when there’s Hell to pay.
I seem gone from you now, but I know that somehow
We will reunite in another place.
For “The good they die young,” is a song often sung,
But this verse is flawed on its face.
You see the good don’t die young, but instead, they live on,
In memories, and many a heart.
The good that you do does not die when you do.
For the good, death’s not an end, but a start.
This poem, originally published 05/13/2013, has been updated.