Behind the blue and behind the badge, there is red, red, red.
Waiting to spill out for you,
Waiting for the fear to subside.
It never does.
To them it isn’t about whether they are afraid.
It’s all about what comes after the fright.
Is it fight or is it flight?
Either leaves them with a heavy mind, tired eyes, a sleepless night.
Behind that badge, there’s a brother, sister, son, daughter, mother, father.
If he shoots to defend himself, he’s dead to society.
If he doesn’t shoot, he’s just dead.
A life of underappreciated service and a life of incomplete stories.
He sees that even in the day, the world can hold so much of the dark.
In the worst situation, there can be enough hope to change the minds of the masses.
Maybe he can save a life.
He can at least try.
Behind the blue and behind the badge there is a child, born to protect.
He pretends his juice is coffee, and carries around plastic handcuffs.
He just wants to be like his uncles.
He doesn’t know every day is a risk, a chess match.
His wife begs for distraction from her dangerous mind.
It wanders, and she wonders if he’ll come home.
She hopes his body will make it through this civil war.
She worries that his heart might be broken either way.
He never forgets to say, “I love you,” whether it’s through words or actions.
He knows how suddenly lives change, how quickly things can turn.
But he still kisses his beloved goodbye and shuts the door behind him,
Because maybe – just maybe – he can put a bright mark on this world.
A badge is supposed to symbolize security, sacrifice.
It has become a metal target on the breast of his uniform, but he wears it with pride.
He’s proud his brothers and sisters in blue –
Some of whom didn’t make it to morning.
You would die for your family.
He would die for your family too.
He is blue.
He is red, red, red.