The Measure
of a Career

The fears he can hide,
Keeps everything inside,
Even hides from the one He loves most
The sadness he sees,
The screams and the pleas,
That still haunt him at night Like a ghost.

He’s seen death and despair,
Heard shots in the air;
He’s wrestled with anger And pain,
But it’s these stressful times,
All these uphill climbs,
For which he was chosen And trained.

And it’s a lonely choice
To have no voice
To express the outrage He feels,
If there were only the chance,
To go on a rant,
Maybe then, only then, Could he heal.

And anger gets in the way,
Day after day;
Seems to hit him when it Wasn’t planned,
And it gets even worse,
Both a blessing and curse,
That only others like him Understand.

How can he share,
And make others aware,
That it’s them that he works To defend,
When they call him names,
Always seek him to blame,
And find ways to hasten His end.

And it’s hard to explain
To those not the same
That it’s not for adventure And fun,
When he’s saving a life,
Protecting a wife,
Or forced to use His gun.

But it’s deep in his blood,
Like his tracks in the mud,
And it beckons him back Every time,
Though the danger is real,
And it hurts not to feel,
He’ll still put his life On the line.

He’s found reasons to stay,
To come back every day
To live with the burden He bears,
It’s the people he meets
While protecting the streets;
It’s the small things that still make Him care.

It’s the smile of a child,
The call of the wild,
And the need to be one’s Very best,
That governs the days
And changes the ways
Of the man with the star On his chest.

Many people are special,
But I feel the best
Are those who fasten
The star to their chest.

Of those with the star
Some will be put in danger;
But then fewer still
Will work hard for a stranger.

And so for this reason,
Let us all be reflective,
Of what truly makes
A good homicide detective.

It’s someone who still cares
When the case becomes old,
When the tips have stopped coming,
And the trail has run cold.

It’s someone unphased
By the dead or the dying,
Who holds it together
Though they feel like crying.

It’s someone who must laugh
To cover their pain,
Who tramps through the mud,
And works in the rain.

It’s someone willing
To find who took a life,
Who embraces the child,
Holds the hand of the wife.

We don’t do this for money,
Or for fame or applause;
But truth and justice
Serve as our cause.

We may never be thanked,
But among those who know;
The homicide detective
Is an unsung hero.

For it’s more to us
Than just being “able;”
On each of our hearts,
There’s the “Homicide” label.

So let us be proud,
We answer a high call;
And we know, win or lose,
We gave it our all.