Fort Sumter became an outpost when Anderson retreated from vulnerability

And I am my own sanctuary.

Fort Sumter’s meager cache urged for a supply that wouldn’t come

And I am short on certainty.

Fort Sumter withstood the first barrage

And I feel brave in the beginning.

Fort Sumter received shell after shell

And I straighten my spine.

Fort Sumter is left empty and damaged yet surrendered and whole

And I am still under fire, ignorant of the ways of retreat.

My feet remember the burn of the sun-baked black top.

My feet remember the prickle of sweet smelling summer green grass.

My feet remember the grit of sea softened sand.

My feet remember splashing through warm post-rainy day puddles.

My feet remember the five left turns it takes to walk around my childhood neighborhood.

My feet remember carefree days of summer.