The man walks
Bending on his cane, picking
Pasta, potatoes and a box of sardines. Other shelves are
Searching eyes roam back and forth.
Suspended between anxiety and necessity,
He interprets the message in its complexity —
An immigrant from a faraway country.
We expand our sense of time,
Reminding ourselves of what mother Corona
Has been prescribing. Maintain social distance,
Have one or two pills of solidarity.
Life is not a ride on an aeroplane,
Go slow, like a man with a cane!
His fingers shake at the cash counter. The wallet
Falls with a thud on the aisle, emptying its contents.
His belly and knees wouldn't let him gather his money.
I offer my help, but he declines.
My hands have become everyone's enemy.
Dilruba Z. Ara is an internationally acclaimed Swedish-Bangladeshi writer, novelist, artist, educator and translator. She lives and works in Lund, Sweden, and writes from there. To know more about her, visit www.dilrubazara.com