There is a poet
He lives in me
I am his host and his prisoner –
He is not married to my wife
He is not related to my family members
He does not come from my country
He does not work for my employer
He is a recluse
Who lurks sometimes seen sometimes unseen
In the waters within my heart
I heard his name
They called him Spirit.
He looks at me
With his burning eyes
Only when he has something to say
Then, calling my name, he commands:
And I write.
And that’s all I know about him.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.