I thought I was awake
Until I woke up
And realised it was a dream
Who filled my cup?
Overflowing with dreams
The more I take
For goodness’ sake
In reality it seems
On dreams I sup.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije
Poems from the inner river
dreams
WAS IT A DREAM?
Dreams What do they mean? So many things happen in them - And yet nothing happened. So many things never happened in them And yet everything happens one day But I have forgotten Until Déjà vu. Che Chidi Chukwumerije Poems from the inner river
SLEEP WALKER
Every night when I sleep and wake up in the morning , I jump large distances. I don’t know where I go when I’m sleeping, but I never wake up where I fell asleep. The person who sleeps at night, dies, and a new person wakes up in the morning. So, if you were in my heart before I died in the night, and you are still or again in my heart when I wake up, as a new person, in the morning, then know that I truly love you, for you are anchored at a depth within me that is deeper than all the changes. But the day I wake up and check inside my heart and you are no more there, then know that a fundamental change has taken place within me. The person who exists now does not know or recognise you and does not love you anymore.
Friends, waste not the night. Pray before you fall asleep, and let your spirit walk, through its interactions and reflections, to its next station of development; yea, and let your spirit jump at night to its new conclusions. The night is not meant for sleeping. The night is meant for weeping, for keeping pace with your spiritual development, for healing, for recharging your solar plexus, and for leaping to new recognitions. Only the mind sleeps off at night, when it has grown tired of thinking. But the spirt, the spirit is awake. So, something continues to happen at the back of your mind. And what your spirit learns while your body is asleep, it will attempt to reveal to your intellect, your day-conscious mind, in the morning when you wake up again. But we don’t always understand, and we don’t always remember.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije
Undulating Plains
I DREAM EVERY TIME I FALL ASLEEP
I dream every time I fall asleep And it’s always one adventure or the other; Conversations with beloveds I keep, My best friend, my father, my brother, And strangers too with whom I laugh and weep And fight and love and comfort one another; The dangers are real, the emotions are deep, Every fear, every tear, every worry and bother; At times I weightless fly, or I burdened creep, Through encounters that liberate or smother, But I’m always conscious even in the Deep, As awake as a baby born out of its mother. For I have vows to keep and sowed seeds to reap - And before it gets lighter it will get darker - And miles to go and never really sleep. Che Chidi Chukwumerije Poems from the inner river
FORGETTING AND FOCUSING
I dreamt that something did not arrive But think now as I may I cannot remember What it was in the night that didn’t arrive As though the memory I don’t remember Is itself what it was that did not arrive. Morning comes and I am alive Full of tomorrow’s energy and drive So I wonder what it was I forgot today I guess it must be yesterday. Che Chidi Chukwumerije Poems from the inner river
A DREAMER’S MIND
I see a mountain
In the distance
A mysterious mind
Over matter
The birds that circle its heights
Like higher thoughts
That hover above a dreamer’s mind
Seeking to make contact
For oft the thoughts we think
And think are ours
Are borrowed
Upon a lazy afternoon, somewhere
In Creation.
A child sits somewhere unseen
Locked in an old body
Each time it smiles
Rainbows and rainbows of new thoughts
Surge out, unite, swing forth, to go seek out
Like-minded wonderers dreaming lazily
Upon a quiet moment, somewhere
In Creation
Blindly receiving the seeds of new thoughts
And thinking the thoughts they think
Are theirs alone
As if the mind of a dreamer
Were not a fertile garden too.
– che chidi chukwumerije.
THE EARTH IS NOT MY HOME
The earth is not my home
Although she ever seems
To weave fine birds that her heights roam
Like I do in my dreams
The earth is not my home
Although she always tries
To spread bright hues across her dome
Like in my home’s blue skies
The earth is not my home.
However hard she plot
To dull my homesickness with foam
She in the end cannot
The earth is not my home
And yet I wander here
And know that when my end is come,
Strange, still I’ll shed a tear.
– che chidi chukwumerije.
DISCERNING
I fear
The daily commute
To the valley of the mute
The echoless cry of my silent flute
Digs a hole in my soul
Wringe me mad
I fear
Mockery sticks his head around the door
You no waving yo flag no mo?
Blackhawk down
My dreams, stranded shipwrecks
Scuttle each hurriedly into safety
Hiding they fearfully await the scorching passage
Of the locals’ raging raid –
Some will be caught, shot, mocked
Some will sacrifice themselves
That the finer ones may escape the drape
For tomorrow’s blossoming
Quiet now
Wait for the Sign.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
DIMLY
I touch my intuition
Every morning
And at night I remember it
Like a friend from long ago
Far away
On the riverbanks of dawn
I forget what I saw in the soft bright sunlight
Of nightly dreams
Sometimes during the day
It will beat
Like a weak heart
I barely hear, barely feel
Quietly inside
Between conversations of How are you?
How are the revenue figures doing?
Very poorly. Stop. And look into the water
And feel your life
Trying to flow back to you, in little ripples
Of intuitively perceived memory
Of the blue island.
Don’t shake your head
And tell me you don’t understand
I know you simply don’t remember…
But I remember you; dimly
Like a friend from long long ago
Far far away
On a blue island….
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
MEETING GROUNDS
Meetings such as these
Can take place anywhere
On streets or in the house of dreams
Or upon open pages
That, beckoning, beckon the words
Out of another heart
And if you want to write a poem
The poem will come to you.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
