A Poem by Sharik Currimbhoy Ebrahim
Me were a We
The Roads All Traveled
To my grandmother, Shahnaz Husain
And my greatest inspiration, Admiral Bill Owens
"Some similarities are meant to be, and it seems patent, that Me is a We"
Admiral Bill Owens
Shahnaz Husain
Sharik Currimbhoy Ebrahim
February 27th, 2026
Frost's great poem, The Road Not Taken, seems straightforward at first: a nameless traveller stands before two paths, chooses the one less travelled, and declares — with a sigh — that it has made all the difference. But is it a paean to triumphant self-assertion, a triumphant declaration that the brave path is the worthy one? Or is it a biting commentary on self-deception — a man choosing between two roads that were, in truth, worn "really about the same," and only later romanticising the decision as life-altering?
I believe the poem speaks to both impulses, and to every shade between them. But what Frost never considers is this: that we do not walk the road alone. That Me, at its truest, is a We.
What follows is my answer to Frost.
The Original Frost Poem
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
— Robert Frost, 1916
Me are We: The Roads All Traveled
By Sharik Currimbhoy Ebrahim
Two roads in front of him Equally lay:
One looking worn, a little grey
The other brand new,
Shiny
braved by a few.
And from the bard comes a paradox
Of which door opens, when one knocks.
The Road less travelled, He says with pride —
But
Is there a puzzle
in the maze
in the riddle
inside?
Go forth boldly,
it means to some.
But do think twice —
For some do strum
And walk their walk to a different drum.
A beat that beats to a different beat
Not meaning always what they
Doublespeak.
Truthfully there,
For those who Seek
But not for the frail
And, Not meant for the weak.
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry He could not travel both..."
But really perhaps,
He found: No Way forwards,
And No Way back.
For as foretold:
The road to Hell is paved with gold.
Like Dante's Inferno,
life slowly unfolds —
burns wise men's eyes,
blinds poor men's souls.
After walking leisurely around the bend
He sees them both equal in the end.
But equal then how did he know?
The other was a mystery left untold
Forever sealed
Not meant to unfold.
It made no difference
Then in the end
Which went straight
and which had a bend.
Life is not a game of
happenstance
Nor a flip of the coin, or based on a glance.
"It was the road"
We tell ourselves
But was it really the road
In End of The End?
Or did but just
One
of me,
Relish the apple that fell from that tree?
My Foes: Did I Fear,
Did I Fight,
Did I Flee?
How much by force was taken by me?
How did I walk upon that path
Did the world get to feel my wrath?
Did my life have both joy and strife?
Did my words ever cut like a knife?
Did I live and love and hate
Did I ever
Scorch the ground with my gait?
Did I have vision, or merely just see
And did poor Zeus throw his thunderbolt at me
Only to miss
because Me
was a We?
Fire and Ice
We make a good match
To spark a spark
To match a match.
Simply living life was never enough,
For life piles on life
We've seen too much.
To walk the walk endlessly
To hoard with the horde,
That gives us no glee
Did we show the World to be One
The chosen Few, anointed Suns.
Did the Sky Glow,
From Bridges We Burnt?
What did we eat? Who did we Hunt?
Did we at The End, Sit by the Waterfront
And laugh and cry
And recount every stunt.
Did we drink life itself to the lees
Swim the Oceans
Cross every Sea
To challenge that great Damocles?
And did he then avert his glance
Knowing he had been given,
one more chance.
Did we ever find what makes men free?
Did we see every sight,
Hear every plea?
Who did we love,
Who did we hate,
Were we the mosquito, to Alexander the Great?
Both Fire and Ice, You see is our Fate.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And at the crossroads there I stood
We walked neither road
and both
with a Smile
By walking all Walks
Our Walk was worthwhile.
Dedicated to my walking partners
Admiral Bill Owens
Princess Shahnaz Husain