Why defer our dreams?
Why let them dry like ‘raisin in the sun’?
I mused, hugging my dream close to my chest.
The dream of a warm, snug house,
In lots of sunlight drenched.
The shriveled woman
In the hovel with the tin roof a little distance away
Wondered why a dismal existence
Had been emblazoned with iron rods on her tubercular chest.
Last night the wind had stalked her house
like a rapacious wolf
Hunting for the tiniest crack to insinuate itself in.
I felt the taste of bitter almonds in my mouth
As the scoundrel wind tore away the tin roof from her head.
Alas , now she would dry like ‘raisin in the sun’
In ferocious sunlight drenched.
I hastily gulped a glass of water to wash away that bitter taste.
Did she have any option but to defer her dreams?
To throttle her screams?
Furtively, I hugged my dream to my chest.
But found no peace in this hugging.
At my heart, the scene kept tugging.
So, I sang a requiem
To my dream.
And was at peace.