Honor’s hard to find.
You won’t get it
When you’re on foot pursuit and you trip and fall over garbage cans—
When you get hand cramps from writing tickets on illegally parked cars—
When you try over and over to get some drunk to tell you his name.
And you won’t get much honor, Jim, even when you risk your neck to chase armed robbers at Code 3.
Most people who watch will be disaffected.
They’ll probably think you have better things to do.
They won’t see heroism in you. They’ll rarely feel thanks.
Sometimes they’ll only see how your outdated vehicle is spattered with mud—
and splattered up even more with people’s curses and mockeries.
They won’t see the horror of the crimes ahead of you, and how disgusted you are by them:
They’ll only see you’re part of the crimes.
And so they’ll roll you up—the crime and the cop—together,
And they’ll act like those crimes stain the front of your shirt . . .
They’ll act like you stink because of them.
Honor’s hard to find, Jim.
Peace is hard to find.
You won’t get it
When gunfire spits at you,
chips the concrete around you,
screams against your soul that you’re going to die,
and die hard.
Peace doesn’t come with maniacs, or the parents of missing kids, or hostages—
Or even dumb teen joyriders who blow past stop signs and curse you for pulling them over.
And you won’t ever find peace when you’re with a policeman’s widow.
Here’s the thing: Everyone else can fall apart, Jim.
They can scream, shudder, sob, get sick,
And no one’s gonna think much less of them,
because it’s human to be terrified.
Are cops human?
Crazy few seem to think we are.
Even though we’ve got beating hearts under our brass,
And we’ve got heaving stomachs under our crisp uniforms,
We can’t show it. You can’t show it.
You have to be cool-jawed and unequivocal in the face of every atrocity you can name,
And humans can’t often be like that.
Maybe that’s why they call policemen ‘pigs’ instead.
Peace is hard to find, Jim.
Hope is hard to find.
You won’t get it
When innocents are murdered—
When politicians go corrupt and bribed witnesses lie—
You won’t get it from the stream of weakness, filth,
Anger and addiction that’s gonna flow around you in the streets—
And sometimes you won’t get even hope from the law.
Death happens all too often.
You glance into your partner’s eyes
And a bullet keeps him from responding.
So often, simple justice seems to get trumped by money, by power, and worst of all,
By your own inability.
You know it’s dirty work
When the cleanest thing you ever do
Is fold up the flag at a policeman’s funeral.
Sometimes it’s too hard to keep your head over the surface.
Sometimes the filth starts to cling to you.
Sometimes you can’t stay clean.
But here’s the facts: here’s what sticks
When you’re edging close to despair.
In your gut, you’ll always be convinced
There’s wrong and there’s right.
There’s crime. There’s a good deed.
There’s black. There’s white.
That’s not gonna change.
So you’ll keep on showing those colors—
Flying the flag—carrying the gun
And defending the law, even though
Hope’s hard to find, Jim.
Honor, peace and hope—
I guess what I’m trying to tell you
Is that you can’t go looking for them.
Not on this job.
You can’t break down if you don’t find them, Jim,
Because the fact is, they’re always gonna rely on you.
You’ve got to bring them with you
And leave them on your trail . . .
Only then will they be easy for other people to find.
Even if it’s after you’re gone.
I have never watched “Adam-12”, but this prose-poem makes me think I should really give it a shot! Your dialogue from one policeman to another really captures the Catholic concept of the Suffering Servant, seeking “not so much to be consoled, as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love…” It also makes me think we should have more appreciation for law enforcement officials, and redouble our efforts to encourage them in their calling. I went to a Blue Mass last year, and that was a taste of what could be offered to these servicemen in the way of spiritual support and acknowledgement.
Oh, you really should give the series a try! It’s a well-worn favorite in our household, and we proudly display the five seasons we own in their snazzy cases in our DVD stand 😀
Indeed, so many of the heroes who sacrifice for our safety and freedom are underappreciated and unsung today; they deserve our encouragement and thanks!
Actually, I’ve never heard of a Blue Mass before: what’s it like??
Well, the Blue Mass we went to was specifically geared towards the police force and other servicemen and women, called “blue” in reference to their uniforms. There were special prayers offered for their protection, guidence, and strength, and most of the Catholics in our local police force turned out for it. And at the end their was a reception at the Knights of Columbus hall, although I doubt that’s a mandatory liturgical part of a Blue Mass…;-) Nevertheless, perhaps its one of those spontaneous traditions risen up among the people that cannot easily be broken without riots in the streets…? 😛