In My Own Time

     We walk carefully along the edge of the fence careful not too look inside and give ourselves away.  The guards are bored, and have become accustomed to the silence in the past few weeks.  In my bag I'm carrying it, the instrument of power, that will drive them to the far shores of Ireland where they will scrabble for their boats, and ride back across the old channel.  I get to the front gate where I can see that a few of my own countrymen stand waiting.  There are enough of them to momentarily block the guard view so I can hand my bag to a man I know give him a knowing look for a moment and walk out.  Ten minutes later their is a cascading explosion, and it is a spectacle for all too see.  What I birthed in silence would one day silence me.