The Juggler

(Written for Rescue Divers & EMT's at the request of Happy_Joe.
His son is an EMT.)

He was just a simple juggler
On a silent stretch of road.
But the balls that he was juggling
Were a very special load.

They were treasures much more precious
Than a bar of purest gold.
It was the lives of strangers
That the juggler had to hold.

It's his hands that keep them breathing
When they're hurt along the way.
When they're lost, he searches for them.
When the sky is stormy gray

He won't stop if someone's out there
And he has a job to do.
He juggles time and heartbeats
As he works at his rescue.

Sometimes his luck is magic
And sometimes a tragedy.
Sometimes his heart is flying.
Other times, more desperately

The day comes back in nightmares,
When death was all he found.
Then he prays he'll have no tears to cry
When the next time comes around.


© 2000 Pam H. Murray