Talk to the clouds
As you would talk to a departed friend
As you would write to a distant lover
As you would whisper to your future
Quietly within your heart.

For they are dreams
Gathering on the roof of your destiny
And they shall rain upon you
Or they shall disperse and quietly disappear –
Some are fulfilled, some are not. This is life.

Che Chidi Chukwumerije


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.


Why we sorrow, what we know
No tomorrow, yet we sow
Because this night, because this night
Because this night
Will crack

Light, light, I see tomorrow
Through a crack so slight and mellow
There’s a tiny track

The pain, though great
Will end.
The rain, though late
The rain, though late
The rain, though late
Shall bend
Our way again, this I know
Though we sorrow, yet we know
We’ll smile again.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


The light of the moon uncovers the night
Sends a shiver across the fur of grass
A sleeping tree awakens, turns
Reaches out with its strong, slow branches
Bristling with leaves
The wind suddenly holds its breath, in the hush
The night beats faster
The earth yearns harder, as clouds quickly gather
And the rain softens the dark.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


Everyday she printed dust on feet
Earlier than sunrise
She was a surprise
To every sleeping wanderer she will meet

On her way to the well, wishing well,
An empty bucket on her head
One more in each hand that bled
On her way to hell

The well, the well is dry
It is dry, barren, unresponsive
The less you get, the more you give
The desert will never cry

Every evening she dusts her way home
Not a drop of water
To herself she will mutter
Soliloquy on when the rain will come.



… continued from Part Seven.

Those who long shall grow.

The night was young. Young again. The moon, half-full, was banking all alone in the west of heaven, and there was, though no clouds were anywhere to be seen, a distant smell of rain. Sweet night rain, to bear our dreams softly down from heaven and wash our fears away; wash the old year away too and water the seeds of a new one. But the night, for now, was young and eager, eager to look into the homes and hearts of human beings, to know again their story.

Tony sighed – a deep sigh – and turned in for the night, wondering at the destiny that had returned Ngozi into his life.

He said goodnight to Ada and retired to his bedroom.

Quietly Ada watched her brother’s back as he retreated into the bowels of the house in which they lived.

Softly the night crept into the house and touched, as it was touched by, the hearts, the hopes and the everyday history of the human race.

And deep into the night, between midnight and dawn, singing, singing, the rain fell softly down.

… continued in Part Nine.


If you want to skip the excerpts and read the full story of this delicate, subtle love story, the novella is availaable on (e-book / paperback) (e-book / paperback) (e-book / paperback) (ebook / paperback) (ebook / paperback) (ebook / paperback)
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Available from December 2013.