That blossom
That let go of the tree
And fell to earth
Is forgiveness
That recognition
That pain was the unavoidable teacher
Is forgiveness
That cleansing tear
Is forgiveness.
But I never want to see you again.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
English
INNER SHARING
Every friend
Takes a piece of you
But not all
Will give it back
From friendship to friendship
You lose more of you
And have to reinvent yourself
In the end
This is when
Your friends will tell you
That you have changed
And they don’t know you anymore
Only those
Who gave back what they took
Will understand you now
Because they were the soil
That yielded you.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
EXCEPT YE AS LITTLE CHILDREN BE
Children are united
By childhood
Adults divided
By their adulthood
Too smart is the mind
That sees division
The spirit is inclined
To strive for union.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
TRUE COLOURS
Every tree eventually
Bears its fruit
Look not for reason
Wait just for its season
Long is the wait when
Deep is the root
You don’t know your friend
Until the end.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
THE WAIF, THE WIDOW AND THE WOLF – Part 4
***
PART FOUR
Somayinozo was again on her way to see Chagonu.
Was this dusk descending? So early? Or had she simply not known how far behind noon had already lain by the time she set forth? She had in a nylon bag with her a few pieces of meat. It was very little, she knew, but she really did not like visiting Chagonu empty-handed. No matter how little or not-to-his-taste whatever it was that she brought along was, Chagonu was always grateful.
As her eyes and a sensitive, impressionable part of her consciousness took in the beauty of sunset –
Suddenly she sensed the presence of the strange wolf she had seen upon the morning of the day before. She paused…
Her eyes scanned.
The air was cold. With sunset came mist and delicate dew. All around her rose and tumbled the beautiful green hills of Nsukka. And peace.
But though she looked with yes so keen, and though her heart longed to encounter again the Wolf-soul, all she saw were the hills, sunset and the gentle softening of dusky nature.
She descended the hill and entered into the little woods. Nobody else knew that the wolves were still around… and she was going to make sure that no one ever came to know. Her carelessness had already almost cost them their lives once. It would not happen again.
They heard her footsteps and knew it was her. There was a howl. It shivered, gently, in the leaves, and she was at home.
… to be continued.
– CHE CHIDI CHUKWUMERIJE.
WHEN WE’RE WEAK
When we’re down, that’s when
We should cheer each other up
Silence is gold when happiness is upon us
In sorrow, speech will hold us together
Hold me when you crave to be held
You didn’t know you were lonely until I hugged you
When we’re weak, we become stronger
This is the illogical magic in the heart of friendship.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
NIGHT RUSH
The light of the moon uncovers the night
Sends a shiver across the fur of grass
A sleeping tree awakens, turns
Reaches out with its strong, slow branches
Bristling with leaves
The wind suddenly holds its breath, in the hush
The night beats faster
The earth yearns harder, as clouds quickly gather
And the rain softens the dark.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
SOMETHING TO HOLD ON TO
If a true friend is gold, are they poor that have no friends? Or rich by default, for peace of mind is also the lot of the lonely who is spared the irony of the laughter and companionship of false friends? How often have we met with a friend and parted from a stranger a short while later? In these days of sad revolutions and mixed allegations, of spying and cyber double lives, of migration without integration, of religious justice without religious love, of racial reawakening and regrouping, gender re-evaluation, of social re-engineering and hardening, there are some you will meet who will tell you that what they need is not a friend, what they need is honesty and clarity.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
DAWN
I chanced to look near dawn
Out of my sorrow
And indigo was the wall
Outside my window
Surprised, I looked away
From night, my widow
Then stole another glance again
At my tomorrow
Tomorrow was in mute concert
Briefly I am my cello
Confused at my own melody
My poem, my strange bedfellow
But night is sheared now finally
Soft day echoes my hello
And as I rise, my waking thought
Sinks away into my pillow.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
BLOW ON
There is something
I want to write
– this has happened to me before –
That is:
It is the poet who wants to write it
While I, the pen,
Am yet in the dark
I only feel the heat of inspiration
The dark ink, flowing
The red blood, going
Somewhere
The wind, blowing…
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 