The Homeworld Tongue
Marvin,
Second-Generation Martian Immigrant,
Couldn’t speak Martian.
He grew up on Earth,
So he never learned it.
Not much of an excuse,
Other Martians were born on Earth,
And most of them could speak it.
His parents could speak it,
As could his aunts and uncles,
And even most of his cousins,
But he couldn’t.
He could speak a little,
Ask for a glass of water,
Ask the time of day,
Even knew some of the curse words.
But he couldn’t read a book,
Or watch a movie.
Couldn’t hold a conversation,
Couldn’t tell a joke,
Couldn’t talk to a girl,
In his people’s tongue.
He dealt with the occasional stares of confusion,
When the waiter at the Martian restaurant,
Didn’t understand,
Why he needed the English menu.
He grinned through the
“Good-natured”
Insults from his Martian peers,
Who openly mocked his monolingualism.
He suppressed his rage and sorrow,
At the older Martians,
Green-skin still stained by red sand,
Who said he wasn’t a real Martian,
Didn’t have a Martian soul,
Because he couldn’t speak
The Homeworld Tongue.
He’ll never be one of them,
He’ll never be one of them,
He knew there was more to identity,
Than the languages you spoke,
The color of your skin,
The birthplace of your grandfather,
The spelling of your last name.
It was your values,
Your sense of humor,
Your talents,
Your vices,
The things you hated,
The things you loved,
The things you feared.
But he was still a green-skinned,
Three-foot-tall creature,
With antennae,
And four arms.
He could never fully assimilate,
Into the world of humans.
At best,
They’d regard him,
As a harmless “Other”
A quirky neighbor,
Who was good for a laugh.
He’d never be their buddy,
Their close friend,
Their lover.
He was a different species all together.
He could never fully assimilate,
Into the world of humans.
And he could never fully be a part,
Of the immigrant communities of Martians.
A pariah from both worlds.
He’ll never belong.
He’ll never belong.
