Es regnet im Wald
Bäume regnet’s ohne Blätter
Glänzende Stangen
Einzelne Menschen im Leben
Es regnet in der Sonne
Helle Aufregung
Mein Herz flattert
Wie Tausend junge Blätter
Bin ich, bin ich ein Schmetterling?
Flatterblätterschmetterling –
Es regnet in den Wald
Unzählige Sonnenscheiben hinein, ohne Ende
Glänzende Stangen
Einzelne Menschen im Leben
Es regnet in der Sonne
Helle Aufregung
Flatterblätterschmetterling –
Wo bin ich?
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Insight awakens
What hope is there for Sight?
No matter what your eyes see outwardly
Your heart insists on knowing better inwardly
Proof is intellectual
Knowledge perceptual
A Dream will insist
Reality is the dreamy Mist.
Vision takes over
You become a tool of its mission
Lose your power of decision
In matters beyond the mind
There the mind is blind –
Your Vision does for you the Seeing
Makes of you a true human being
The mind sees the light
Bows to the inner power of Insight.
You search for words to speak your mind
Your strange heart is all you’ll find.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Caked by the moon’s blood
It was our virginal touch
I thought of you
As a wolf howling for mystery
As we silently
Touched without a sigh
All I remember is the look
In your observant eyes
Muddied
By the moon’s blood
No rain could
Wash it away.
Dance, ye shivering droplets
Our skin is voyeur
Our dance is romance
Immortalise our first kiss.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
The mirror sang from side to side
Somewhere over the rainbow an old guitar
Picked up a young musician,
Awakened in his heart the desire
To be a Bridge.
And he is still wandering
looking for himself –
When the masquerade dances
not earthly drums move its feet
but the worlds underneath.
When your heart moves
Close your ears to the kora you hear
Look for the mirror within
For the mirror swings
from side to side.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
***
The young maiden requested of the youth at the piano
To teach her how to play that piece he played
He sat her by his side and tenderly began to show
The movements of the fingers to be laid
She went home weeping, but the tears were tears of joy and bliss
And in her memory the piece played on,
But when she got home, sorrow drew her into its abyss:
Quarrelling brothers used her to trade on;
The night went by and morning dawned and restless she arose
And moved as was her wont to the piano,
Played to unburden heart and mind, but could not shed her woes
‘Til she recalled the piece she’d learned to know.
So she began to play the piece, and peace returned to her
And then a wonder began to unfold:
Soon after she released the tones, there flew a dove, sans fear,
To perch on her window, and twitter bold
Amazed the maiden held her breath and continued to play
And the little dove continued to sing,
But when she changed the tune, to make the mood even more gay
The strange white dove flew off a-fluttering
“Can it be so?”, she asked herself, “That if I play this piece,
The unknown dove will come and sing along?
But any other tune, however full of sprite or bliss,
Will drive her forth again without a song?”
So she began to play again the piece the youth taught her
And verily, verily, it was so:
The singing dove returned unto the window-column clear
But when she changed or stopped, the dove would go…
Now she called a brother inside and, full of raptured joy,
Performed for him this miracle of sound
And not even the untamed heart of this untempered boy
Could resist the magic thus come around.
And so it was, her joy was great, her heart burst beyond bounds
To experience such unity in life –
Such harmony and true beauty that flowed even from sounds
And conquered every woe and every strife!
A-skipping and a-humming and a-dreaming and a-swaying
The young maiden ran cross-town to the youth
To tell him of this wonder that came to her while a-playing
The music piece he’d taught her in his boothe.
The youth was startled by her tale and refused to believe
For ‘twas a tale as strange as strange can be
So she sat down at his piano and that music did weave
And the dove came to them, singing freely…
And then the youth, with wondering eyes, told her a startling thing:
“This piece is called La Paloma – by jove! –
And La Paloma translated out of its Spanish ring
Would mean in English simply but the Dove.”
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
***
A woman loved a man
And a man loved a woman
They vowed the sacred vow:
Marriage.
Then the woman balked and
Suddenly decided to ask her brother
First… –
She asked him
And he promised to give her the answer
The next day
For he was baffled by the question.
Then he went to a wise man
And questioned him thus:
“Please, Sir, if your sister asks you whether
She ought to marry a man whom
She says she loves,
What would you tell her?”
The sage studied the man’s features thoughtfully
For a while, then with an introspective look
Said:
“I would tell her not to marry him.”
“What reason would you give her for this, Sir?”
“Truly, I would give her anything
But the true reason,
For that would render it meaningless.”
“And what, Sir, is the true reason?”
“Marriage is a sacred, mysterious bond which,
Once taken,
Is embedded forever in the eternal Silence!
It therefore concerns only three:
The man, the woman and the Creator!
Once one of these two humans
Requires the opinion of a third human
To take this step
Then he or she is not yet ready
For Marriage!”
And so, the next day
When the man’s sister came for an answer
He told her mysteriously
Wisely nodding his head:
“My sister, in your best interest
I advice you not to marry
Your fiancé.
But ask me not why. Just believe me.”
She became destabilized and confused, very…
For she loved her fiancé
Excruciatingly.
But she had her own restless, defiant sage
In her own heart too;
And she decided that her brother was wrong
She went ahead and married her loved one
Resolutely, calmly
Proudly.
Wondering how she could ever have doubted
Or asked a third person,
A stranger to their love.
Invited to her wedding soon after
Her surprised brother,
On arriving
And meeting her fiancé for the first time,
Suddenly became deeply confused…
And now he addressed his sister’s laughing husband again:
“You?… You!
Incredible!
But I thought you told me
To tell my sister not to marry you?”
But the sage laughed
And said
In a voice full of respect:
“It turns out that my wife
In the end
Believed her heart
More than she believed the words
Of the forbidden third human…
Because she loves me.”
And, so saying,
The young sage went home joyfully
With his wise new wife.
-Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
You have to take a position
You cannot be for all.
You have to have An Opinion
You must answer your Inner Call
You must stand for something
You must represent a Ring
That, visible or invisible, encloses One Thing –
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
Only a few days after
And already, that magical laughter
Like a wall-painting, hanging in time
Over there, at the back of my mind…
I turn around with thoughtful eyes:
Time stands still; ’tis the spirit that flies.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
Through this last stretch
Of lonely days
This last patch of watered fields
Although the mountains be now in sight
Need I some company
To make easier the journeying
And ease a bit my lonesome sorrow
That I by pain be not too distracted
From that alertness
That be my sworded shield…
So keep me company
Dear Muse
From here to Kingdom Come.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
She stands by the roadside
Smoking her thoughts away
Thoughts she tried
Could not find the words to say
Arise dejectedly, smoke and ashes
The green light flashes.
One last drag, last sigh
Last attempt to inwardly see the way
Shoulders sag, the look in her eye
When she turns briefly her head our way
Before stepping off across the road
Is itself a long and winding road.
A Cumbrian mountain-walk
Winding past trees and waterfalls
Feet heavied, it’s your heart bears the bulk
Of any stray Sorrow that calls
Many strange paths will cross your feet
Follow not every path you meet…
A short smile crosses her face
Our eyes meet, a moment of connection
A smile at once everything unitable in one place
Joy, sorrow, interest, disaffection
The smile’s source is its end
Just made and lost a friend.
Deep, the heart of every wanderer
Your path is the outgrowth of your heart
Gently touch, gently leave each sojourner
Take solely what the moment did impart
There’ll be enough in it to sorrow or sing
Poetry lurks in everything.
A moment in time, no content, no words
A mighty happening just played itself out
She crosses the road, I turn off at the boards
Never again will our paths cross, no doubt –
My woman walking beside me the whole time
Did she sense at all this passing rhyme?
The small, silent things that come and go
Without our really paying attention
The rock-solid things our hearts know
Even when we pay no attention –
The inner bond that withstands passing things
Takes note of the closing of little rings.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 