My Ammachi's Hut

Last night I dreamt of my Ammachi's hut

It was different from what I'd known it to be; 

Bigger, with a few more rooms,

And a backyard that stretched to beyond where I could see.

The front door latch was just as I remembered,

Strong and painted ochre red,

The door was open to the muddy front yard,

And the path that to the century-old church led. 

Beds and desks were nicely arranged

The rooms were orderly and neat,

Not at all like my Ammachi's hut - 

Small and thatched and beat. 

The backyard gate was wide and strong,

And it creaked as it swung by the wind.

But the trees and bushes were quietly still,

My heart felt heavy - like disappointment and sin. 

I felt something unwelcome in the air -

Probably a memory, a person, a feeling or fear. 

I closed the gate and ran over pebbles and bricks;

And locked all the doors in the house... it felt near. 

The moment the latches locked in place,

My Ammachi's hut became glowing and warm.

My fear dissipated and fled,

I felt the familiar calm. 

My Ammachi's hut, so thatched and small,

Smelling of firewood and jaggery sweet.

Was my joy and my place of rest,

Where imagination and freedom would meet. 

It's gone now, my Ammachi's hut,

Amid human sins and greed,

These dreams of my Ammachi's hut,

They make me happy and are all I now need.