Editor’s Note: For this special edition PoliceOne First Person essay — in honor of the 10 year anniversary of 9/11 — we’re doing something a little bit different. We have received the below poem from a number of our members over the years, and have seen it posted to a variety of law enforcement blogs and websites. Although the author himself — a man by the name of Peter Hornbach — is not known to us personally and our efforts to contact him directly have fallen short of “successful,” we believe he’d be pleased to have his work presented to PoliceOne Members. Should you want to share your own perspective with other P1 Members, just send us an e-mail with your story.
By Peter Hornbach
Special Contributor to Police1
The Policeman stood and faced his God, Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining as brightly as his brass.
“Step forward now, officer. How shall I deal with You?
Have you always turned the other cheek? To my Church have you been true?”
The officer squared his shoulders and said, “No, Lord, I guess I ain’t.
Cause those of us who carry badges can’t always be a saint.
But I never took a penny that wasn’t mine to keep,
Though I worked a lot of overtime when the bills just got too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help, though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God forgive me, I wept unmanly tears.
I know I don’t deserve a place among the people here.
They never wanted me around except to calm their fear.
If you’ve a place for me here, Lord, it needn’t be so grand.
I’ve never expected or had too much. But if you don’t, I’ll understand.”
There was silence all around the throne where the saints had often trod.
As the officer waited quietly for the answer of his God.
“Step forward now, Officer, you’ve borne your burdens well.
Come walk a beat on Heaven’s Streets. You’ve done your time in Hell.”
