Sandbox Poem by Sean Foxx

Sean Foxx

Sean Foxx

Midwest region of the United States of America

Sandbox



Here I sit in the sandbox
Some thousand miles away
From those I love and cherish
Trying to focus on the day.

I didn't sleep well last night,
Or was it early this morn?
Doesn't really matter much
I'm exhausted and my clothes
Are still worn.

It's a bother to fully undress,
You never know when you must bolt
To the nearest bunker or hole in the ground
When the air siren screams its jolt.

I load onto a bus with my fellows
To go down to the pad full of planes.
We pack ourselves in like fish
Nestled together like sardines.

Checkpoint after checkpoint,
ID's checked all around.
We pass some hardened hangers
Destroyed from a war long gone.

Though some of our vets remember
Just which ones they blew.
How ironic that we use them now
To hide bombs from you know who.

I grab some chow and hustle,
I'm running late you see
To relieve the shift before us
They've been on watch for 12 hours
Trying to pass the monotony.

Just then God barks over the loud speakers,
Her voice strangely calm.
For the news she brings clips our heart strings
Into an undulating pace of terror from afar.

“MOPP level four, alert red, this is not a drill.”
She sings while Gabriel blows his horn.
Not much to do but zip my top and don a mask
Hoping their aim is not true.

I search for a bunker and stake out its entrance,
For its better to be blown to bits than buried,
And I witness mans hate, unfold in such a state
That I'm glad I did not tarry.

I see them streak towards heaven
Their screams a terrible noise
Such patriotic missiles are a joy to be seen,
Yet show theres something to fear
That exists in the endless blue void.

The sweat in my mask is unbearable,
But to scratch is the gamble of death.
Someone barks an order,
But its more a muffled breath.

Time has slowed and we wait for a release
From this steady pace towards death.
At last God harks “All clear. All clear.”
And were granted one more day of unrest.

I find my fellows and relieve them,
So they may catch some sleep to few.
This will be the routine for us,
Those who play in the sandbox.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Colin Jeffery 04 September 2008

A very moving poem by a great poet.

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Sean Foxx

Sean Foxx

Midwest region of the United States of America
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