343

I have a tradition around September 11th that will become clear in the end. I have others I may post in the next two days

Flames snarl like dozens of cornered lions,

biting and swatting the spray of cool water,

Sweat beats down the inside of the suit they reside in,

A hundred story building suddenly becomes a million times hotter,

yet truck after truck came amid ash rain,

ladder after ladder appeared,

hose after hose sprayed the flames in vain,

then suddenly it happened, what everyone feared,

everything came crashing down,

As the building started to fall,

Not one face had a frown,

they continued their duty and call,

The yells of this way is the exit echo in a survivor's mind,

the sight of black helmets and coats ushering them to safety,

Their story might be the peace a son needs to find,

but every single fireman utters a little prayer to the 343,

343 brothers dying not because they had to stay,

343 mothers and fathers dying because they choose to,

343 cousins actions saying I'll save ten more this way,

343 showing the world a job isn't what you say but what you do.