Remembering the 343

 

They ran in while others were fleeing.

Hot helmets clinging to sweaty heads

as each climbed flight after flight of stairs

helping, always helping, as bodies streamed downward

while they moved up,

boots so heavy they could barely lift their legs

as they reached another level.

Their breath sounding deep and heavy, hollowing their chests

as their oxygen began to grow low

from effort and time.

They felt the rumble as the buildings fell.

They could not run.

They could not flee.

They died heroes.

I shall not forget the 343.

                    -- A. Firebaugh