The children come out to play
And all is happy and gay
In the month of May.
The farmers make their hay
In the shinning sun’s ray.
Hand in hand as they go their way
Young lovers whisper what they have to say
On their way to hear the new priest pray.
And following the song of the stock-bird jay
Gentle old couples of yesterday
Quietly remember their youth today.
The essentials will stay
When all else goes away.
This is the song in the heart of May.
– che chidi chukwumerije.
There was a girl
the fruit of her labour
Was the world
With a cry of pain and a shout of joy
She gave birth to the world
And primitive was the world
Harsh the lips that burned her nipples
Rough the tongue that broke her word
And we’re still here today
The earth is still not enough
Mother has become a stranger
The outcasts have grasped their destiny.
-Che Chidi Chukwumerije..
And then you will see
That blind people see
The things that are invisible
To you and to me
And then you will hear
What the deaf loudly hear
When silence is all
That you and I hear
And then you will understand
That children understand
To store deep in their memory
Things they don’t yet understand
When a moment full of pain
Opens up your heart again
And you learn to look again
And see again, and hear again.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
I walk the streets, the broken streets. I encounter people, broken people. I see the materialisation of broken dreams – and suddenly I understand a-deeper, that a child was silenced at dawn. Ssshh! Keepquiet! Shutup! Don’ttalk! Can’t you see that adults are talking! Stopthat! Standthere! Standstill! Obey before you complain! You’re just a child! You’re still a child! DO as you’re told! You will understand only when you’ve grown… – But by the time they grow, poor children, they’ve forgotten whatever it was they once wanted to say or what once they wanted to know… – – – I walk the streets, the broken streets. I encounter adults, broken adults… noisy… empty… silent… silenced. I see the forgotten memory of the broken dreams blowing in the evening wind under a sad sun. And I understand once again, that once upon a crucial early time, a child was told to be still… stillborn.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
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.
They can’t read
But they can read
The signs on the wall
They can read between the lines
When the educated are talking
They can read your thoughts
In your eyes
When you’re lying to them
They just don’t have the words
To explain that all they need
Is a seed of true knowledge planted
Into their minds when they were young.
Someone has to walk ahead
When others are looking
For someone to follow.
How many generations will fall like
Autumn leaves, wasted beauty?
– CHE CHIDI CHUKWUMERIJE.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 