Coastal waters, flood plains,
They always felt the same.
Billowy bogs, croaking frogs;
Swimming in sweet tea, watching ants on logs.
Sunny smiles, cozy drawls,
Yet I still ran way from it all.
Into the marsh where the pluff mud reigns.
Into the marsh, vibrioid pain.
My mama told me to show some grit
When all the wasps stung and the fire ants bit.
Yet, so naïve, I dreamed of more
As I watched the egrets and spoonbills soar.
Supper time, collard greens,
Which I scrapped like my family.
Away from the table, further and further,
Losing resolve as a Southerner.
Back then my roots were as shallow as turf.
I never, ever knew the worth
Of the muddy sand underneath my feet
And the glazing, sizzling summertime heat.
Into the marsh where the needle grass grows.
Into the marsh to bestow my woes.
There are times I rejected my origins,
So I swam upstream past the Tamanend
And turned towards apples and maples and cod
While abandoning the asters and goldenrod.
Ashamed of my voice, ashamed of my sweetness,
Tried to dive where it was deepest,
But I was unaccustomed to waters so cold.
Forgetting all about my Carolina Gold.
Memories of fiddlers and periwinkles,
Of spring showers and summer sprinkles.
The simpler times of tomatoes on toast
And the peachy people whom I loved most.
My roots grew longer like Jessamine
So I swam downstream to the Lowcountry.
Into the marsh where the dragonflies roam.
Into the marsh, where I call home.