Give me nightrain
Or give me pain
Still will I smile and smile again
Bring me sunshine
Or bring me ease
Still will I cry and never cease.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
myself
IT TAKES TIME TO BE FREE
After I had rid myself
Of my father’s voice in my head
And my mother’s voice in my heart
And society’s voice in my ears
And fear’s voice in my throat
I stopped on a quiet morning
And listened to the sound of
My own voice
My own thoughts
My own intuition
My own will
My own way of seeing myself and seeing the world
And oh! How different it was
From what I had once thought was me.
Dazed in this silence
I looked and looked at me and me
Getting used to the sight … and feel… of me I
For it’s new when the mirror becomes an open window
Now I know why liberated birds hesitate before flying away
And why they take a while to get their bearing
And why they never return once they feel at home again in the wild.
– che chidi chukwumerije.
BEING DIFFERENT
UNRAVELLING THE mystery that is my own soul, I pondered and sought; I wondered about my beginning. Woman and man in a garden. Which garden? East or west? Home is best, they say.
So I went home into my spirit-man and discovered an a different person dwelling within, staring back at me with my own face but not my own eyes.
“Different person,” I asked him, “Who are you and what are you doing inside my heart?”
But he only returned my gaze without giving an answer, and I sensed that I must find the answer myself. Myself? But who is myself?
The mystery took shape, deepened, arose. I wandered from pole to pole. But each time I thought I had found my goal, I saw the different person inside my heart again, looking back at me with my own face but not with my own eyes.
I wanted to scream, but my heart rejected this. I lay me down to sleep, but sleep ejected me. So on and on I wander and sojourn, on and on I go, seeking to unravel this mystery that is simply my very own self.
And each time I think I have found the answer, I see him again, a different person inside my soul, staring back at me with my face but not with my eyes.
Who are you, I wonder, you stranger in my soul?
What are you, why are you, so different, so alien, so silent, so bold?
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
JUST ME
I am my own forerunner
My own ancestor
The reincarnation of myself
I am the roots of my own tree
The stem, the trunk, the branches and the leaves
The flower and the fruit
The source of my own seeds
I am the beginning of my self
And the continuation and the end
The original blame rests upon me
The final victory shall be my handiwork
I am the controller of my destiny
Nothing more, nothing less
Nothing else.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
(Image by kloxklox_com)
RIDE OUT
The way is “how”
Even more than “what”
Even more than “where”
“What” without “how”
Is religion, is dogma
Will chain the spirit
“Where” instead of “how”
Will never lead to
The answer of “why”
For it is the doing
By oneself that yields alone
The personal Understanding of “How”
Just do to me that thing
That makes my spirit light
And, deep in me, I’ll understand
The way
Who needs teachers
When we’ve got horses?
Just teach me how to ride
Or I’ll learn it myself
Then we’ll ride out together
And see for ourselves
What the world has to offer to
Seekers and lovers.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 