It’s about time I revisited a classic English poem and added a modern spin to it. This one was prompted by the regular tragedies that take place between France and the UK as desperate refugees try and make the short but incredibly dangerous crossing.
(John Masefield: Sea Fever)
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
Where I’ll await their call, fighting fear, holding my head up high.
I set my face, as bland as milk against those hollowed eyes
And think of how we seek a truth, neat-wrapped in hideous lies.
I must down to the seas again, clinging to a long held hope
And cross the spume to the promised land of Keats and Shelley and Pope,
Where bombs don’t fall and guns are quiet and I’ll not have to hide,
Where the men all say I will be safe once we’re away on the tide.
I must go down to the seas again, and put away my fear
And watch and wait in case tonight those I hold most dear
Have by some miracle been spared to reach the Kentish coast
And then perhaps there’ll be some rest for this most restless ghost.