Down the towering pole they came
With one main aim – to save life.
That day you had a different plan,
Too big for any shy extinguisher.
On the fourteenth day of the sixth month
Of the seventeenth year into the 2000s;
The holy month for many,
In loving homes you found your way,
Like the returning in a forest.
As the brave slipped on their gentle helmets
And made their way towards you,
Your smoke began to whisper
As you creeped amongst your playground.
Oh sacred fire, how glad you seemed
For those who’d made your job easy.
Without pause you leapt from floor to floor,
Without a care in your way.
Burning water and choking cries
Could not stop you this time.
Those sluggish hoses were not a match
As this time you had help.
For you knew before anyone else
That your way had already been paved
By those selfish few who already knew
That your playpen wasn’t safe.
Oh sacred fire, what have you done?
This time it’s gone too far.
And you reply, to those who ignored the cries
That the history of your voice is loud and clear
And there for anyone to hear.
“It’s all there in the history books,
And the warnings from the lips of those I took.”
You say your decision was made for you,
And on that I can agree.
So now it’s the fourteenth day of the twelth month,
of the eighteenth year into the 2000s.
We are braver because of those who fought that night
And those that have done since.
We are braver because of the dignity and strength
of those that lost their own and those that survived.
But sacred fire, what have you done
To the 72 lives that had not yet begun?