Okefenokee, the Trembling Earth

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
You, trembling earth, peat bog under my boots in March 2022,
near Trail Ridge where the prescribed burn scorched the air,
acrid smoke stinging my eyes at 6:30 AM.
I step and you quiver, 700 square miles of blackwater secret,
Suwannee River birthing from your tannin heart,
cypress knees like drowned fingers reaching up.

[Chorus]
Okefenokee, my unsteady love,
you hold the weight of forgotten Seminole camps,
their names lost to the logging crews of 1912,
Francis Harper scribbling in his field notes,
"the earth quakes underfoot, a man might sink to his waist."
Alligators bellow in the cool 65-degree water,
their guttural calls echoing your fragile pulse.

[Verse 2]
On Billys Island, the rusted schoolhouse whispers of 1920s ghosts,
flat-bottomed cypress boat gliding over your skin,
past Chesser Island's 1927 cabin, longleaf pine watching.
Cornelia Bailey told stories from Sapelo, her voice like your mist,
"the swamp is a place of memory, where old ways breathe,"
but the titanium miners eye Trail Ridge in 1997 reports,
threatening your hydrologic balance, 438,000 acres at risk.

[Bridge]
Walt Kelly drew Pogo here, possum philosopher in the reeds,
"we have met the enemy and he is us," inked in 1970 strips.
You, trembling earth, swallowed the Suwannee Canal dream of 1890s fools,
their peat-fuel fantasy drowned in your floods.
African American hands unnamed in ledgers, digging what became your vein.

[Verse 3]
At Kingfisher Landing, fire tower ladder cold under my grip,
smell of burnt peat heavy in the humid 90-degree air,
prescribed flames licking your edges to keep you alive.
Swamp cabbage bitter on my tongue, heart of sabal palm,
food of those who knew your ways before the refuge lines.

[Outro]
Okefenokee, you tremble still, holding gaps in the record,
missing persons in your bog, but I feel your breath,
intimate as a lover's sigh in the dawn fog.