The man walks

Bending on his cane, picking

Pasta, potatoes and a box of sardines. Other shelves are

Gaping empty.

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