THE WILD-HORSE MOUNTAINS

In the Distance, mysterious and magnificent
There spreads a group of towering mountains
Who, in total appearance
From left to right, in shape and aura
Looks like a wild horse,
Frozen in mid-gallop.
And there is a legend, aye there is
About the heroic wild-horses
Who, long, so long ago
Had guarded these mountains
So that nobody had been able to come near them
Or of mounting these towering rocks
Nay, Mountains.
Beautiful wild horses. Killer-beasts of different colours
Guardians of this mysterious mountain-range
From an era immemorial. – – –
Finally, an earthquake split off the Wild-Horse mountains
From the rest of our land
Such that it now floats, an Island
Barely visible miles out into the mysterious ocean
And called by everybody “The Island of Wild-Horse Mountain”.
Are the wild horses still there? Guardians!…?
What have they guarded for so long?

Seven people on one boat,
Trapped by a violent gale at sea one summer evening,
Decided to quickly beach on Wild-Horse Mountain Island
Before the sea wrecked their boat
And killed them.
Now you must understand that the legend
Of Wild-Horse Mountain
Is just a legend.
It is possible that this small island with its rugged mountains
Has ever floated right there in the ocean
And that it was all never a part of our mainland
And that no wild horses had ever existed.
But the legend claims that the Wild-Horse Mountain
Had once been on land, our land, guarded by wild killer horses
Until an earthquake turned it into a floating island
So many aeons ago.
Nobody really believed, but you know how it is:
Everybody likes to repeat legends.

It was the Silence
That first struck these seven people
When they landed ashore.
Immediately, they were gripped by a tension
And an uncanny excitement
Which they could not comprehend.
The gale at sea suddenly died
Yet they remained on the shore of the island
Gazing up in awe at the Wild-Horse mountains.
These people were three couples and one lady,
Seasoned Adventurers
And, all of a sudden
They decided to explore the mountains themselves
To see if they would find any relics
Perhaps bones or any other things
Which might perhaps substantiate or contradict
The old Legend.

So they began.
They moved in a group towards the mountains.
But night fell
And they camped and slept.
In the morning they began to search –

There are seven mountains that make up this breath-taking range,
And in six days they had explored six mountains
And found nothing. –
On the seventh day, they mounted the seventh
And, over half-way up,
Heard a strange sound below them… and,
Looking down,
Saw the entire valley suddenly
Populated by horses nobler than the noblest steeds,
Silent as tombs, with angry fire roaring out of their eyes,
Watching them…!
The ancient wild horses; the beautiful legendary killer-beasts.
Alive.
It was eerie. They seemed to have come out of nowhere.

In a flash, the wild horses
Charged up the mountain, towards the intruders.
Looking up, the humans saw a light glow on the mountain-peak
And it occurred to them suddenly
That it was a race to the top.
They just knew it!
If they got to the peak before the wild horses
Then they would be left to live…
But if the wild horses caught up with them
Before they got to the summit
Then they were each dead and gone for life.

So the race began.
Up they sped, faster and faster
Empowered by the threat of death
And the possibility of victory and life.
But the wild horses, too, continued to gallop their tested
Way so quickly and surely up this seventh mountain,
Pursuing them deathly,
And still they were all silent.
But if the horses were wild
And if the mountains looked like a wild horse
Then surely these virgin mountains were also wild.
Only now did the intruders
Suddenly understand the true meaning
Of the name Wild-Horse Mountain.
Suddenly, like a very wild, untamed horse
This seventh mountain bluntly refused to be mounted.
Ever and again it bucked
And threatened to throw
The human beings down, into oblivion.

And then…, the near inevitable happened…
One of the humans missed his footing… and fell!
He rolled into the path of the merciless wild horses
They tore him brutally apart…
His partner, seeing this, lost her balance
And pummelled down to her death too…
One by one, singly and yet in pairs
They all began to slip, stumble, fall
Thrown by the bucking of wild-horse mountain.

In the end,
Only the lady made it to the top
While the three couples fell back and died
Pursued by wild horses,
Betrayed by a wild mountain,
As all mountains, how ever tame, are actually very wild.

At the peak
She found that the light glow was in truth a path.
On it was a proud Stallion, calm,
Who had eyes that were almost human.
She mounted him
And he bore her grandly down the winding
Gently-sloping path that led into the very heart
Of the entire Wild-Horse Mountain Range…
Unexpectedly they came across the
Green Valley.

Her breath caught in her heart
As she beheld the precious treasures
The unbelievable Prize
Which the wild horses had so faithfully
Guarded from that time unremembered:

She saw a colony
Of magnificent winged horses,
Each exactly as she had always
Imagined Pegasus would be,
Only even more beautiful were these…

For the first time ever, one of us
Encountered the valley of life
Where the winged horses had been
Slowly evolving over millennia.
There, deep inside the gentle heart
Of the Wild-Horse Mountains
Guarded faithfully by unchanging unwavering
Wild killer-horses
Without fear, without question
Aided by a stubborn mountain.

Their leader’s name was Sram.
He spoke to the lady from the land of men.
She mounted him, he beat his wings, and, together
They visited awhile the Land of Tomorrow
Where, one day, the Earth will also be…
And noble animals will roam the earth again
And noble human beings will bestride the earth anew
And the winged flying horses
That the lady saw in the valley of life
Will make a friendly abode with humans on earth
For a long time
Yet to come.

When next you see a wild horse
Do not try to tame it
But remember:
That wild streak in her
Is the sole guardian
Of a beauty
That yet sleeps, silent,
Within the heart of every human being.

– AKA TERAKA (Che Chidi Chukwumerije)

YOU, MY RIVER

I see you in this moment as a river, flowing out.

If you touch it, it makes your fingers wet. If you drink it, you get thirstier. If you watch it, you never come to find out its wherefrom or whereto. If you dive in, it takes you to a place from which you can’t return.

So you have to be strong, and outriver the river and outthirst your thirst, for the river flows in you.

And if these words mystify you, then you understand the effect you have on many people.

But when you dive in, dive deep into the river’s bed and clench its roots with your teeth and bite, so hard, that it bleeds. Then will you see the river run…

Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

A DEEP AWESOME SILENT MOON

This night’s moon
Is wet and red
Pensive, heavy
Soaked in a silent mystery
And a bloody cry as of hunting wolves
Unheard of and staining
The blue-black canvas of the tree-dotted nightscape

She struggles
This fascinating moon
To lift herself above the palms
And jab
Our consciousness
With wishes from the embers
Of the invisible weavings of life

The faithfulness
Of the ever-returning moon…
Soon the tree-tops
Who now stare levelly at the moon
Will also have to raise their eyes up
If they want to see
Her face…

O lovely awesome red moon
Rising above the palm trees
Ascending again
Sink like the silence of peace
Deep into my breast.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

THE STRANGE BEAUTY OF A GOOD WOMAN

What, is it?
Struck, like thunderbolt
Thunder, and lightning
Yet gentle, as falling snow
Omnipresent, like substance
Everywhere, you turn it is
You cannot, hide away
From it
Once, it has caught you
In its tender, net –

It is love, some say
Pure, selfless love, they say
It is strange, is all I know
Makes, you ashamed
Afraid
And, after you have conquered, yourself
Weathered, shame and fear
It makes, you humble
And all you want, to do now
Strange
Is serve, the Almighty.

This is what, it does to you
This is what, it does to you
The strange beauty
Of, a good woman.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

I HEARD A SOFT CRY IN THE NIGHT

I heard a soft cry in the night
And knew not where it came from
Through the open window
It floated in on a warm summer’s night

Just one cry, soft and intense
And short it shuddered the night
Like a single pulse of night’s heartbeat
Swallowed up in echoless suspense

I knew not if it was a cry of pain
A cry for help, of fear or of liberty
Or if it was a cry of crowned ecstasy
Of one in pleasure and passion lain

It spoke of terror and sang of delight
A mystery that revealed neither where nor why
All I knew was that it was the soft cry
Of some woman’s voice in the night.

– CHE CHIDI CHUKWUMERIJE.

QUIETNESS NAY SILENCE

Quietness nay silence
Like a virginal victim of violence
Was broken by a passing train in the night
Lonely and out of sight.

I won’t go near the window
Why reopen sorrow?
Let it pass by like a train in the distance
Heralding a second chance.

Night breathes, asleep
Silence sinks into ethereal deep
None shall stir until the dawn doth break
Only I – why am I still awake?

If I were clairvoyant, I would swear
There is somebody with me here
In that quiet hour when night is day
Spirits come out to play.

– CHE CHIDI CHUKWUMERIJE.