This Night I Go

Written by Nico Horton

This night I go,

To the wild water of the Celtic Sea, down to St Agnes Head;

This night I go,

Where it rustles close against winter’s black rocks;

It takes and runs the torment of wrecks laid on the shore

That tell me of sailors’ tales, ill-starred as this night;

And like a voice, a whimpering from the past,

Degrading deep into sediments and washed-away shingle.

This night I go,

Walking a while southwest with my fettered feet, glancing northwards

To the restless Celtic Sea, eye its tempest unsteadily.

Down the abraded path, I follow,

Finding a footing, then mooring myself against salt-plastered rocks;

There are spirits like mine within the wild water,

They can put me where I can stand to turn and breathe;

Make not myself a wreck, but the way apart from it

Weaker than the other,

And weaker still as what is sturdy stone becomes

Sapless sand incrusting over my trembling hands.

This night as ireful clouds clash above,

And rain rampantly roars, pressing on the murky Celtic Sea,

I stand under showers and grasp with my shedding eyes

The wrecks along the shore. Departed, drowning beneath,

Sailors, pitying me for that I was born with a moonish mind:

I steady it against a reclusive driftwood,

A token from the wrecks,

And search for an anchor, urging my mind to abide by a calmer tide,

While my body crawls and trawls along the shore of the Celtic Sea.

This night I fall as hard as stone, yet remained unwrecked.

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