It will come back some day
For from me it’s home and source
Once it went forth into world
To heal or harm or help or hurt another
Or pass them all touchlessly by –
And when it comes back to origin
Some will call it destiny, fate, fortune, karma
Some accident, some unfair, some design
Serendipity or plot or providence –
But I will call it by its name: Justice.
– che chidi chukwumerije.
I searched long for it this afternoon, and I finally found it – a poem I wrote for Muhammad Ali, back in 1988 (my, where did the years go?). I was 14 and had just started exploring the world with words.
THE GREATEST
This is a long-overdue salute from me
To him who has truly amazed the world
He who is the greatest boxer the world will ever see
And has been proclaimed the ‘Greatest of them all’
This is a long-overdue salute to Muhammad Ali.
It’s almost impossible that it should be
That he could be so good for nearly every bout
For he could really float like a butterfly and sting like a bee
He’d dance in and kill, then dance and get out.
The world started noticing him when he beat Sonny Liston
That’s when he beat him with his mouth before the real fight
Then he continued shoutin’ and screamin’ and boastin’ and braggin’
And decking every heavyweight that was in sight.
In America there’s meant to be religious freedom, really,
Yet when Cassius Clay became a muslim
And changed his name to Muhammad Ali
He became the most unpopular champion since Jack Johnson.
Ali’s list of victims grew quite long
And he became known as the fastest heavyweight in the history of boxing
But when he refused to fight the Viet-Cong
He gave the racists the chance to ban him from fighting.
But the people never forgot Ali – never!
And he always stood up for what he knew was right
And when he let them know he’d ‘retire Joe Frazier’
THEY just had to let him come back and fight.
His three-year lay-off had its toll
When he lost to Norton and he lost to Frazier
But he evened out the scores and beat them two-one
After breaking Foreman down, down here in Zaire.
He slackened and Leon Spinks snatched away the throne
But Ali came back and showed him who was King
He then retired, then came back for the new King, Holmes
But his freelancing had caught up and he could only do his pre-fight sing.
Ali will never again come back to the ring
Because he’s suffering from Parkinson’s Disease
But though the Butterfly has lost its wings and the bee its sting
The saga of Ali will never cease.
He is the greatest.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije
05. July, 1988.
I went on a journey, a holiday,
And brought home with me
In my bag instead of clothes new things
I never knew existed before
Where I saw a mountain shrouded in tears
I packed into my bag the power of mystery
And at the end when I saw smiles
With the primordial power of blessings
Waving goodbye on the faces of friends’ hearts
I stored the power of openness
In the folds of my rucksack
Strengthening my back.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Good morning
Bird singing outside my window
My neck I crane, yet
I see neither thee nor thy shadow
My ears I strain, for soft
Is thy voice of joy and sorrow
My heart shifts shape, ’tis now
A bird I must eternally follow.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
The mystery of the Grail
The higher you go, the less worthy you feel
And when you get to the Top
You drop.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
A man searches for
The man in the mirror
A woman searches
For the
Woman in the water
A man will stand his ground
A woman will wet her ground
I don’t understand gender roles
But I understand tender truths.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
It’s so easy to forget
Who you are
The longer you live like them
With them
Amongst them
Sleep is depth
Is debt
Is death
The greatest treasure on earth
Is memory
Spirit, it’s so easy to forget
Who you are
On Earth.
Everything seems normal
To sleepwalker.
– che chidi chukwumerije.
The beach was a friend
Whose waves like fingers
Wrapped themselves around
The hooves of the horses on
Which Kwame and I flew across wet sand
And Daddy took lost pictures
In the background, barefooted
While Mummy and Azuka
Laughed at us cheerfully.
Bar Beach on a Saturday
Long gone away.
– che chidi chukwumerije.
Hands that grasped together
The bonds that heal and hold
And spun together warm threads
Into blanket against cold
And together formed fists that struck
At foes, firmly and bold
Hands that aged together, lined by
Love that never grew old.
– che chidi chukwumerije.
Nation must dig deep into
The luminous garden of soul
For new spirits must incarnate
Nation must dig deep into
The forgotten regions of soul
For sleeping spirit must awake
If we don’t change inside
Nothing will change outside.
We will merely pile up academic degrees.
– che chidi chukwumerije.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 