Living in unsure days,
with every move
being monitored,
one of going out
has become impossible,
the other being indoor
seeing none, washing
the hands how much times
one can, breathing
through a mask,
talking through the same,
the saliva circulates,
hands within the gloves.
one looks like a robot,
with the eyes revealing
a feeling of helplessness,
the world moves on
months together
with infected, recovered
and fatal.
Meenas Poems 