Her glance was taffeta
Smoothed down my trembling hands
Smoothed down my trembling hands
Oh morning glory
Oh these tremors have passed and
I’m asleep again on a Saturday morning
In the birth cradle of April.

Fresh rain, burgundy tears sprinkle sun, sprinkle dawn
Rainbows, silver and gold fingers
Then palmgreen sprouting hope hope
Then palmgreen sprouting hope.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


Like a glove
Her palm fit into mine
I saw her struggling
With the shock
Recognition brought.

We tried to decipher our fate
But saw neither
Its beginning nor its end
The flask has gone out of the djini
Tracing the palm groove…

Ever the palms
Lining our every path
Kissing our everything
Wild trees become a garden, untamed…
A jungle becomes a park, intriguing…

The rivers are wetting the vallies
We clasp hands and become a palm nation.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


There is comfort in pain
Like these tears that spill my eyes
Mine heart shallt drink
When I am alone

They all left me, one bye one
But I shall not break
Like the palm tree, bent under
My laugh will be straight again

A lane travels through the woods alone
Asking for no company
Neither loving nor hating those that
Walk on him and leave him behind.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije