Sunday 29 March 2020

The Workers


I came here looking for work
Leaving behind my family
There, my mother, wife and child
Share a meager shelter
Cooking morsels for their meager way of life.

My shelter, here, is even smaller, 
A tin shed with a chulha,
To sleep in, after work.
I can endure this damp and the siren of the wind
With the belief that it is for work.

I don’t much care for this corona scare.
I’ve known these fears manifold.
Here’s rest from work and my holiday, so
Why can’t I go back and why not spare me
The loneliness and let me recreate?

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