How great
Is the greatest man
If he cannot even carry a bucket of water
To his thirsty friend?
If he cannot even put a broom in his hand
And sweep the dustied driveway
With humility of heart?

How great
Is the greatest woman
If she cannot even say hello
To a person she deems to be a class lower?
If she cannot ignore the supposed mockery
Of soceity for the sake of a moment
Of truthfulness to herself?

How great is greatness
If it has no humility?

Even smallness
Is greater
Than such greatness.

– che chidi chukwumerije.


Everyday she printed dust on feet
Earlier than sunrise
She was a surprise
To every sleeping wanderer she will meet

On her way to the well, wishing well,
An empty bucket on her head
One more in each hand that bled
On her way to hell

The well, the well is dry
It is dry, barren, unresponsive
The less you get, the more you give
The desert will never cry

Every evening she dusts her way home
Not a drop of water
To herself she will mutter
Soliloquy on when the rain will come.