Stephen's Poetry and works

Stephen's Poetry and works A life of serving as a Paramedic and hiding from myself, I have recently discovered a way to talk to myself, and others.

It is my hope that my words might help others find their voices.

03/02/2026

It is necessary that I correct a common and rather careless misinterpretation of my temperament.

I am not weak. I am controlled.

I am not passive because I am incapable; I am measured because I see no virtue in needless conflict. I prefer stillness to chaos, rest to agitation, peace to pointless demonstration. I conserve my energy not from deficiency, but from discipline. A man who need not prove himself at every provocation is not fragile—he is governed.

Understand this plainly: restraint is a choice.
I live for quiet. I value order. I seek restoration over destruction. But these preferences are selections made by strength, not excuses constructed by fear. The calm exterior exists because it is permitted to exist.

When life is stable, when peace suffices, when dignity answers the moment—I remain still.
When the hour shifts—when preservation demands something sterner, when the protection of self or others requires decisive action—the calculus changes. And I am entirely capable of meeting that moment without trembling.

There is a difference between a man who cannot do harm and a man who chooses not to. I am the latter.

Should circumstances render gentleness obsolete, I will not hesitate. I will not posture. I will not threaten. I will act. With precision. With finality. With a clarity that does not require spectacle.
Peace is my preference.

But do not confuse preference with limitation.

Author Stephen Lee Brownfield

02/14/2026

True truth….

You didn’t lose what you never knew,
yet grief still feels so deep and true.
A hollow place where love should stay,
a quiet ache that won’t go away.

You watched warm homes through window light,
families laughing late at night.
You learned too young to stand alone,
to be your shelter, heart of stone.

You asked in silence, soft and small,
Why did love skip me after all?
But absence isn’t fault or shame,
no broken child deserves that blame.

Some hearts grow up without the rain,
still bloom despite the drought and pain.
Roots reach deeper in the dark,
searching for a distant spark.

It’s okay to grieve the arms you missed,
the gentle words, the morning kiss.
To mourn the safety never known,
the feeling of being someone’s home.

But hear this truth, and hold it tight—
your past won’t own your future light.
The love you lacked was not your end,
it’s where your healing will begin.

One day you’ll build what you were denied,
with steady hands and heart open wide.
You’ll give the warmth you longed to feel,
and learn how love can truly heal.

You didn’t lose what you never had,
but surviving that loss is quietly brave and sad.
And when love comes — it will be deep,
the kind your soul was made to keep.

Author:
Stephen Lee Brownfield
Copyright 2026, all rights reserved

01/03/2026

Sixty Percent….

He held the paper like a fragile thing,
creased corners, red ink loud and stark.
A number stared back—sixty— heavy as a verdict,
waiting for a father’s sigh, for anger, for the slow shake of a head.

He had practiced apologies in silence,
measured excuses on the walk home,
already shrinking beneath a grade that felt like a name:
Failure.

But his father took the test,
sat down as if it mattered,
read each question carefully,
then smiled.

Not the smile of dismissal,
but the kind that opens doors.

“Look closer,” he said,
tapping the page with gentle hands.
“This isn’t what you missed—
this is what you know.”

Sixty answers stood upright,
earned, honest, real.
Sixty truths already learned,
already living in the child’s mind.

“And now,” his father continued,
“you’ve been given a map.
The wrong answers aren’t shame-
they’re directions.”

The number softened.
The red ink lost its sting.
What once felt like falling
became a foothold.

And the child stood taller,
not because he had passed,
but because he understood:
Learning is not the absence of mistakes,
but the courage to keep going,
one answer at a time.

Author
Stephen Lee Brownfield
Copyright 2025 all rights reserved

08/23/2025

A Wish for Your Sabbath….

I hope your week was gentle, kind,
With moments of peace for heart and mind.
That joy was present, sorrows few,
And light found time to shine on you.

Now as the Sabbath candles glow,
Their holy warmth begins to show.
A quiet hush, the world set still,
As blessings rise with sacred will.

May wine be sweet, the challah blessed,
Your table full, your spirit at rest.
Surrounded by family, love, and song,
In Sabbath s embrace where you belong.

May this day reward the care you give,
Renew your strength, remind you to live.
A pause, a gift, a holy start,
Bringing shalom to soul and heart.

Author
Stephen Lee Brownfield
Copyright ©️ 2025

07/25/2025

The Keeper of Peace....

I am a paramedic,
and you are having your worst day.
Your world has unraveled,
and chaos has come to stay.

But as I step into your storm,
know this—I am here.
Not just to tend your wounds,
but to calm the waves of fear.

Yes, I’ll treat what ails you,
set the fractures, ease the pain.
But my purpose runs deeper,
like sunlight through the rain.

I am here to chase the monsters,
those shadows in your mind,
to push back the weight of terror
that makes you feel confined.

Let me bear the burden—
the panic, the doubt, the dread.
I’ll stand between you and the demons
that scream inside your head.

Rest now, close your eyes;
your fight is no longer your own.
In this moment, I am your shield,
so you will not face it alone.

Give me your fear,
your trembling soul.
Let my hands and heart
make you whole.

For in this fleeting connection,
hope softly takes its place.
I am not just a healer—
I am the keeper of your grace.

Author:
Stephen L. Brownfield
Copywrite 2025,

07/25/2025

Gratitude Overcomes Disappointment....

In quiet hours, when alone I sit,
Reflecting deep, by candle lit,
I weigh my heart—what do I find?
Disappointment stored within my mind.
Yet through the haze, a gentle voice
Speaks softly now: "You have a choice."

The past is filled with paths not taken,
Moments lost and trust mistaken.
I chased the dreams that slipped away,
Held regret like debts to pay.
But in my chest, a whisper clear—
“Be grateful now, release your fear.”

An ounce of thanks can shift the scale,
It whispers hope when spirits fail.
Why cling to grief when joy remains?
Gratefulness dissolves these chains.
So in myself, I search to see
The gifts of life bestowed on me.

Small moments overlooked each day—
A friend who listens, words they say,
Warmth of sun upon my skin,
Laughter letting joy back in.
I count these blessings, quiet, true—
A wealth of gifts long overdue.

For every shadow cast today,
There's still some grace along the way.
Each small thanks given, freely shown,
Reveals the strength I hadn’t known.
Inside my heart, this truth is sent—
Gratitude heals disappointment.

When next I face a bitter loss,
Or feel my dreams have turned to dross,
I'll hold tight to the ounce I've found,
To lift me gently from the ground.
For gratefulness, though small in weight,
Transforms the heavy hand of fate.

Author:
Stephen L. Brownfield
Copywrite 2025,

07/25/2025

The Things We Ask…. For our EMS hometown heroes

We ask you to carry the unimaginable—
The stories that splinter, the cries in the dark,
To stand where pain has shattered peace,
And light a flame with just a spark.

We ask you to run when others freeze,
To meet disaster eye to eye,
To place your hands where life slips loose,
And still believe we do not die.

We ask for calm within the storm,
A steady voice, a measured breath,
While chaos floods the world around,
And every second bargains death.

We ask it not just once, but daily,
In backyards, ditches, steel and flame,
We ask for strength that mends the breaking,
And never let you leave the same.

We ask you to forget your shaking,
To quiet grief beneath your skin,
To treat, to comfort, then move onward—
And do it all… and do it again.

So if we don’t always see your burden,
If your silence hides the scars you bear,
Know this—your courage writes a scripture,
Of service, love, and fierce, deep care.

Author:
Stephen L. Brownfield
Copywrite 2025,

07/25/2025

Happy EMS Week. (I posted this on the wrong page.)

“Paramedic’s Hallelujah”
Inspired by Sailor Jerri’s "Hallelujah"

I heard the tones, the call came through,
A child not breathing, turning blue,
My hands were calm, but inside I was prayin’ through ya.
The radio cracked a mother’s cry,
I bit my lip, and told no lie,
Each time I roll, I whisper hallelujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelu-u-jah.

The sirens wailed through midnight streets,
A stranger's pain, a stranger’s grief,
We never know whose soul we’re walkin’ to, yeah.
We patch the wounds we cannot see,
And fight the things that shouldn’t be,
A silent shield that bears the hallelujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelu-u-jah.

We hold the hands of fading light,
And bring the broken back to life,
And sometimes death is all we’re handed to ya.
We carry weight we’ll never share,
Of final words and vacant stares,
Then drive away and whisper hallelujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelu-u-jah.

We don’t wear capes or talk too loud,
But damn, we make our families proud,
Though sleep is just a dream we once knew through ya.
And when the night has done its worst,
We’ll check the rig, reset the curse,
Then stand again and offer hallelujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelu-u-jah.

For every life we couldn’t save,
Each soul we fought to keep from grave,
For every silent cry that passed on through ya—
We do this job not for the fame,
We do it in our children’s names,
To show the world a deeper hallelujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelu-u-jah.

Stephen Brownfield.

07/04/2025

The Revolutionary War....

In thirteen colonies' bold, defiant stance,
The Revolutionary War, where freedom's dance,
From Lexington's shot to Yorktown's glory,
A fledgling nation's enduring story.

With muskets raised and spirits high,
Colonists fought beneath the sky.
Against the British, they took a stand,
For independence, across the land.

Paul Revere rode through the night,
Spreading the word of the British plight.
At Concord Bridge, the first clash came,
Igniting a fire, a revolutionary flame.

George Washington, a leader brave,
Guided his troops, determined to save.
Through hardships and trials, they fought as one,
For the dream of freedom had just begun.

At Saratoga's field, a turning tide,
As victory smiled on the patriot side.
And at Yorktown's siege, the final blow,
Britannia's grip began to slow.

With the Treaty of Paris, the war did end,
And a new nation's journey did ascend.
The Revolutionary War, a test of might,
For liberty's cause, they dared to fight

Author:
Stephen Lee Brownfield
Copyright 2024, all rights reserved

05/23/2025

The Things We Ask....

We ask you to carry the unimaginable—
The stories that splinter, the cries in the dark,
To stand where pain has shattered peace,
And light a flame with just a spark.

We ask you to run when others freeze,
To meet disaster eye to eye,
To place your hands where life slips loose,
And still believe we do not die.

We ask for calm within the storm,
A steady voice, a measured breath,
While chaos floods the world around,
And every second bargains death.

We ask it not just once, but daily,
In backyards, ditches, steel and flame,
We ask for strength that mends the breaking,
And never let you leave the same.

We ask you to forget your shaking,
To quiet grief beneath your skin,
To treat, to comfort, then move onward—
And do it all... and do it again.

So if we don’t always see your burden,
If your silence hides the scars you bear,
Know this—your courage writes a scripture,
Of service, love, and fierce, deep care.

Author:
Stephen Lee Brownfield

Copyright © 2024 Stephen Lee Brownfield, All rights reserved.

01/29/2025

Not the Same, Thankfully....

I do not wish for us to be the same,
to blur the lines, to trade the flame.
You were made as you are, and I as me,
not to compete—but to complete.

I do not envy the gifts you bear,
the grace, the depth, the way you care.
You see the world through softer eyes,
where I may rush, you realize.

You are grace where I am strength,
soft in ways I’ll never be.
Yet your softness holds a power still,
one that bends but does not break.

I stand to shield, to carve the way,
to bear the weight when storms arise.
You move with wisdom, heart, and light,
seeing what my eyes may miss.

Your touch soothes where my hands build,
your words calm where mine are still.
I forge, I fight, I hold the line,
but in your warmth, I rest in time.

Not lesser, not more—just different in form,
each with a purpose, a role of our own.
Not a contest, not a fight,
but harmony when both align.

For what joy is there in mirrored souls,
when love is found in what we lack?
I do not wish for us to be the same—
but for you to be you, and me to be me.

So stand beside me, not behind,
not in my shadow, not confined.
For I am strong, but you make me wise,
and in your eyes, my purpose lies.

Author:
Stephen Lee Brownfield
Copyright ©️ 2024, all rights reserved

01/23/2025

The Keeper of Peace….

I am the paramedic,
and you are having your worst day.
Your world has unraveled,
and chaos has come to stay.

But as I step into your storm,
know this—I am here.
Not just to tend your wounds,
but to calm the waves of fear.

Yes, I’ll treat what ails you,
set the fractures, ease the pain.
But my purpose runs deeper,
like sunlight through the rain.

I am here to chase the monsters,
those shadows in your mind,
to push back the weight of terror
that makes you feel confined.

Let me bear the burden—
the panic, the doubt, the dread.
I’ll stand between you and the demons
that scream inside your head.

Rest now, close your eyes;
your fight is no longer your own.
In this moment, I am your shield,
so you will not face it alone.

Give me your fear,
your trembling soul.
Let my hands and heart
make you whole.

For in this fleeting connection,
hope softly takes its place.
I am not just a healer—
I am the keeper of your grace.

Author:
Stephen Lee Brownfield
Copyright ©️ 2025, all rights reserved

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10672 Kenai Spur Highway
Kenai, AK
99611

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