Of human beings

FALLEN THROUGH THE CRACKS

~ Che ~ 4 Comments

Originally I used to cover my face
I was new to the street
A freshly fallen angel –

Would old friends pass this way
And recognise me? Old colleagues?
Old neighbours with whom I shared
A beer and a philosophical hour
Reflecting on the vicissitudes of life
The changing destinies of human lives
Society, politics, the role of science in
Religion, male jokes about women
And feeling entitled to be fortunate.

Will they recognise me now, when
They pass this way and hurry past the
Wretched beggar on the street corner
Maybe throw him a coin but avoid his intrusive eyes?
Opposites don’t match, is their marching song
Did they recognise me in me?

But I don’t avoid their eyes anymore
The eyes of my yesterday
Not anymore
Not anymore.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

SURVIVAL

~ Che ~ 4 Comments

What don’t I know
About you is what
I silently ask myself
Each time you ask me
What I’m thinking
As I think about you

How many wars
Have you fought, won and lost?
How many lives have
You taken, how many given?
How much hunger did you endure
To nourish so much anger?

How many loves have pierced you?
How many wounds are
Dripping a trail back to
How many acts of survival?
All I see is the smile in your eyes
And the hope in your heart.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

SEVENTEEN POEMS

~ Che ~ 6 Comments

If I wrote seventeen poems
In one word
Would you understand my language?

If I wrote one word
Sung one love-song
In seventeen poems
Would you understand my language?

What if they were eight?
What if they were eighteen?

If every human smile were a poem
Every laugh a song
Every look a promise
If every human word were silence
You would not need seventeen poems
To understand me

Just one.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

WHEN WE’RE WEAK

~ Che ~ 2 Comments

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.

DON’T SHOOT

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When a gun shouts
It sounds like a whip on crack
So why are you laying that wound
On your brother,
Brother?

You have none other than
The last one you just buried
Those graves are not for the brave
Your brother’s life is all you have,
Brother.

Soldier soldier don’t shoot
Fingerfood for thought is trigger for the unhappy
A life in exchange for a shot
And you call that a fair deal?
Poor substitute.

But they say, look here
We don’t like all these heavy words.
Give us laughter, give us comfort, give us food
Give us pride, give us a shining ring
Or, if you can, give us hope.

Someone has to get up
Someone has to get up first.

– CHE CHIDI CHUKWUMERIJE.

GHETTO BROTHER

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In the ghetto
I get to see
The living me
Watching me with eyes
Wiser than the eyes watching me
Living my thousand lives
While I search in my mind for lies
With which to neutralise
The truth reflected back at me
By the other me.

– CHE CHIDI CHUKWUMERIJE.

P.O.V.ERTY

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Sand for breakfast
Tasted no better than shit
I don’t beg for alms anymore
I just snatch it

My mother’s tears
Son I did not bring you up to be a thief
Mom you didn’t raise me to suffer in poverty, did you?
I just want some relief.

Sometimes they look out of their cars
Our eyes meet
I wonder if they ever wonder
If I know the taste of meat.

If I were in their shoes
Would I mean nothing to me
If driving by I saw me chained by poverty
In a system that benefits only me.

– CHE CHIDI CHUKWUMERIJE.

TRANSITION

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What is adulthood
But childhood lost?

Shopping for arrival
But at what cost?

Goodbye because I want
Welcome because I must

Morning to ashes
Laughter to dust.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

IN JUSTICE

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JUSTICE
JUST IS
A SWORD
SOME WIELD
SOME YIELD

A WORD
ARBITRARY
CONTRARY
AND YET
SO ORDINARY.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

DETACHED

~ Che ~ 3 Comments

I saw a child
Waiting at a bus-stop
Waiting after school
Waiting in the woods.

Child, what are you
Waiting for?

I’m waiting for my mother
Waiting for my father
To come and pick me up
Take me home.

The child’s eyes
Were wide and trusting
Full of hopes and questions
And fears.

And the child said
With pleading eyes:
I really should not speak
To strangers.

The years have passed
And now when I pass by
I see a quiet adult standing there,
Smiling, detached, lonely.

And I wonder
Whatever happened to that child?

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.