Daily Trains

Olivia Arieti

Every morning on my daily train,

I watch the blank faces around me

And wonder if they ever think of my old times

At the sight of my missing arm

Or of the disturbing scar above my upper lip.

Is the star of David I always wear around my neck

Sufficient to explain?

Perhaps, I also have become

Too much a commuter and too less a Jew

To remember and remind them

I am nothing but the lucky remain,

Half corpse half body,

Of distant deportation camps

Where daily trains had only one final stop

And trips were never round.

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© 2008 Women in Judaism, Inc.



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