Sleep Poem by Darlan M Cunha

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How long the people will stay asleep
in a thin layer of sleep, pseudo rest, false
security and happiness, with children
below the arms, and an undefined fear for company?

What is there to eat? What Day is today?
Close a door or a child runs away, or a dog runs away.

There are soldiers here, in strict formation, singing songs
to virtue, almost shouting praises of good attitudes,
their weapons shining like the eyes of greed on a carrion.

How long will the people hibernate? Who will take the andor,
who fixed what the rain did, what the virus undo:

an old error, the pseudo comfort, pseudo security
of society. Sleeping is not the best option.

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