The D Train

This is not "our" road

The path I am on does not belong to my tribe

The other tribes surround us

There are a few others from my tribe here

But most of them look, and probably feel, out of place

I donít like it but I donít understand this tribe

They are different

Our language is supposed to be the same

But I canít understand what they say, how they say it

I wonder how they feel in my tribe

The road has a fork to the right

Me and my tribe mates take this road

This was our path

I thought I heard a small sigh of relief

We are the same in our differences

But we are, in the end, different.

 

Tiffany Kurtz

Jan. 4, 2001

 

return to Poems