THE WANDERING GROUP

When you feel the thing
Most sought
The thing most loved
The thing most needed
The thing most sensed, most uncomprehended
The thing most yours
Approaching you…

Do not walk faster
Do not let over-excitement hurry you
Do not abandon your rhythmic pace
As you reach out to grab it
But just keep on moving
Steadily back Home.

We wander, we wander, we wander…
Everywhere we wander –
Never hurrying
Never worrying
Never tarrying
Ever merrying.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

LOVE IS SILENCE

The vast spaces of silence
Within a human heart
The sky is not vast enough

To engulf this silence
The sea is itself absorbed and lost
Within this silence

Where are the stars?
Where are all the stars?
The stars are so numerous

Yet see all those vast unlit spaces
In the night-sky
The sky is dark

But my heart is vaster
And as the silence spreads and spreads
And engulfs my Soul

The light is lit
See, see, the light is doubly lit…!
Silence. There is this silence

Inside my heart
And she told me it was simple love –
Together we stand.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

THE SILENT THINGS IN OUR HEARTS

THEY HAD always had an eye for each other, ever since their primary school days. Naturally, neither had ever given even a hint of this to the other, but each had carried his and her own slumbering love silently, unspoken, unsubstantiated, deep within each heart.

The primary school days ended and they separated, each going to a different secondary school. Six years of separation and in that time neither had any idea where the other was. And yet their love continued to grow, to wax soft and strong, tender and untouched and sacred, in those recesses of the heart of which even the mind itself is barely conscious.

Every once in a while she would float into his thoughts and he would remember and vaguely yearn and long… then forget again and continue, like other youths, with the demanding task of growing up – until the next bout of longing.

Nor did she ever completely forget him either. And being genuinely of the deep female gender, her ability to call forth his memory in her heart was even stronger. Often she wandered where he was; was he still alive? Was he fine? Was he in love? Would they ever meet again? Would he recognize her? Did he ever think of her? There was no reason why he should; he had hardly ever looked at her in their childhood days. Foolish me, she would think, dreaming hopelessly…

Thus did the years pass by.

He grew up into a young man at the tail end of his youth, matured by love affairs, ideological battles and heartbreaks come and gone.

She grew up similarwise, and if he had loved deeply, she had loved twice as deeply… and if he had believed blindly, she had believed even more fiercely… and if his heart had been broken, hers had been dispersed, ground, into the winds.

Thus did they suddenly meet again in the university.

Who recognized whom? Who was more – or less – eager to let show the fact that silent, unconfessed love had long smouldered in fiercely hidden embers deep within the heart?

Often he would visit her in her room in the evenings and they would crack many jokes, and slowly came they to also like one another. But if he was seeking company with which to cure his loneliness and erase the memories and after-effects of earlier heartbreaks, then she for similar reasons was reluctant to unite again too quickly with a member of the male gender. It was a subtle cat and mouse affair, nothing ever actually spoken, yet both being fully aware of exactly what was going on – and while these things were happening silently in their hearts, outwardly they continued to crack their friendly jokes.

But tensions build and pressures mount and something somewhere must always finally give. And, for hesitation, the tide untaken at the flood, it sort of wilted and softly broke, the potential lost its momentum, the attraction lost its orientation, and it died between the two of them. Gradually they began to see less and less of one another…

One year then passed, during which their paths did not once cross.

She had meanwhile exchanged her room for a new one which she shared with another female student with whom she had quickly become good friends. But never had she voiced it to anyone, not even to her good friend and roommate, that there was someone whom she silently, painfully, loved. –

And no-one could have prepared her for the shock she got when she one evening opened the door of her room upon a visitor’s knock and saw him standing there. They stared at one another with bewildered looks of surprise on their faces.

And then, from behind her, from deeper inside the room they shared, the happy voice of her room mate called out loudly, brightly:

“Oh, Zubi – hi! Finally… you’ve come.” And, bounding forward with barely suppressed excitement, her roommate turned to her of whom this story is about and, taking Zubi’s hand, said:

“Efe, meet the guy I’ve been telling you about… and, Zubi, meet Efe, my room mate.” –

With pain almost impossible to bear, Efe watched her roommate Awa hug, and be hugged, tightly, by him, Zubi, the silent owner of her heart.

Over the next couple of weeks it became clear to her that Zubi and Awa were in a serious relationship and loved each other deeply.

Nor was there anything for her room mate Awa to know or ever suspect in connection with the two childhood friends, Zubi and Efe, for there was nothing that existed or ever had existed between them, was there?

They were just , as always, two casual acquaintants who happened to have known each other in their childhood days and who, today, whenever they met in Awa and Efe’s room would, as usual, aye, as they had always done, simply crack light friendly jokes with one another.

And if they felt anything else, anything deeper, for one another perhaps, then it spoke not, nor loudly, but remained, silent, as it continued to reside in the deep quiet places within their hearts.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

MORGANA

Einst war es, ob du dich
Noch dunkel daran erinnerst
Kühlte ich regelmäßig mich
Im Fluße deines Innerst

Meine brennenden Schreibfinger
Fanden da drinnen Linderung
Meine unruhige Flammenzunge
Schwieg vor lauter Bewunderung

Und mein Sturm, wie ein Wüstenfürst
Stillte drängend heiß seinen Durst

Danach entstieg dem Zauberhain
Und schwebte dünn in der Luft
Stärker und süßer als Dunkelwein
Ein tiefer, wunderbarer Duft

Wie oft blieb ich trunken stehen
Schaute mich in deinem Garten um
Versuchte, Magie zu verstehen
Und wurde, selbstverständlich, stumm.

War das alles wirklich passiert?
Oder nur geträumt? Oder…

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

GIFT

Give me you.
Before you begin to wonder
What you are, remember
That each star and each season
Is nature’s gift for a reason
And you, dear spirit, your blossoming heart
Is spirit’s gift to the gift of art
It is the art of being you.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

ABSTAND

Unsere Beziehung
Basiert auf Distanz
Nicht Nähe, sondern Lücken
Ist die Seele von Tanz

Elektrizität
Knistert mit Widerstand
Gefangen sind wir
Außer Rand und Band

Und nebenbei entsteht
Wenn im Vorbeigehen
Ewigkeit und Augenblick
Sich kurz verstehen

Ein kurzer Schrei
Ein Zusammenfassen
Von Genießen und Verlassen
Von Entfesseln und Erfassen.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

CHRISTMAS: HEARTS OF BELL

I saw a bell
Fall under the spell
Of a magic wand
In a magician’s hand

And he turned the bell into a man
Walking up and down the land
Ringing out a message to everyone
But only a few will understand

I tell you what.
Affiliation to nationality and religion, gender, class and race
Will always be more important to the human race
Than being human, our common lot.

So now the bells, they are ringing
The hearts, they are singing
The times, they are bringing
A Message of Hope.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

WARM

Warm und vertraut war es einst zwischen ihnen gewesen
Und vor allem menschlich, bodenständig, genugsam
Dann trennten sich ihre Wege und, wie es so häufig ist,
Ihre Wesen und Charakter auch, ohne daß sie es merkten
Denn sie blieben in Kontakt. Als sie sich nach Jahren wieder trafen
Hörte die eine entfremdet und verwirrt zu, wie die andere
Von Materialismus gefüllt, erfüllt und getrieben
Nur noch von Haben und Besitz und Vergleichen sprach
Und erst als sie fragte, wo denn ihre alte Freundin geblieben sei
Lösten sich Schmerztränen, doch sie wurden sich nie wieder warm.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

Dieses Gedicht habe ich als Teil eines Interviews geschrieben, das in Sabine’s Lifestyle-Kolumne veröffentlicht wurde. Das Interview kann man hier lesen.

BRAVE ONE

Your secrets
Give them power over you
When you lose your fear of your secrets
They lose their power over you

No-one is feared more
Than one who says yes I did it, so what?
You can break a warrior’s shell
But you cannot make the warrior fear you as well.

Breathe out, brave one, and live some more
Your weaknesses and your strengths are all you’ve got.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

GIFT

Mein Herz ist kein Herz
Es ist eine grimmige Grollsuppe
Mein Blut ist kein Blut
Es fließt wie in einer Zeitlupe
Allein die Tinte aus deinem liebevollen Stift
Dein Wort, deine Stimme, deine Art, deine Schrift
Sind mir Erquickung, Hoffnung und Gegengift.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

Dieses Gedicht habe ich als Teil eines Interviews geschrieben, das in Sabine’s Lifestyle-Kolumne veröffentlicht wurde. Das Interview kann man hier lesen.