There is no other reward than finding yourself
The reward is finding yourself
And experiencing the joy of being yourself
It might seem like a small reward to you now
But when you’ve tasted everything else
Then you’ll understand that this is the greatest reward
Anything that emerges from deep within me
Is native to me
My hometown is a state of being
My state of being.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Footprints on sand
What is the proof that you ever lived?
What is record of self?
What is confirmation of identity?
Passport? No. Insufficient.
Fingerprints? No. Mute.
You. Spirit. Spirit is evidence.
Speak your mind before you die.
Character. Be yourself.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
When, blinding,
The sun’s rays, binding,
The sun’s gaze, finding its way
Through a window, minding
Your business for you, a dazzling hello
Like a friend’s caring
Like a friend’s sharing a heart
You shut tight your eyes tight
A moment –
When love won’t wane, won’t dim, won’t fall
When all you get is love, love, love
You bite back the tears of incomprehension
And open wide your soul –
What your eyes can’t bear, the heart can hold
The heart will grow, the heart will grow!
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
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.
Success is attractive. Only success.
Yet she found you attractive
For you alone were successful
At conquering her hardened heart
There are many walking wounds on earth
Many crusted souls aching for life
Think not that you are nothing
Simply because you never made it to that school
That job, that position, that wealth, that status…
It is also success to heal a human heart.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
In our hearts we feel it sometimes, we know it fullwell, even when we deny the feeling to everybody, including ourselves and our best friends, yet we know: the star is dying…
There you see it, in the spiritual firmaments of the decaying soul. It used to be a bright star, friendly and confident, and pure as miraculous crystal. Once, it shone and sparkled, twinkled and flared and brightly laughed like a flaming eye in the skyscapes of who you truly are… in the skylines of your sensitivity and consciousness.
What is that song which just faded out? It was not any ordinary song, nay. It was the star that lived, and died…
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
I wish I were a painter, to draw the pictures and paint the concepts that words cannot hold – my words. I believe there are greater poets now and ever, better writers, greater wordists, because I’ve tried and tried but still I’ve not succeeded in telling you what I know. I cannot form it in words, I cannot form it in thoughts, I just know it and understand that it is the world of things which the words have never said.
You cannot tell a woman that you love her. The moment you say it, it is gone. You can tell a man the truth, but you cannot tell him what the truth is – only he must find it out for himself one day. You cannot describe beauty in words. Even the beauty of a beautiful poem cannot be put into poetry again. You did it without thinking – and the moment you started thinking, you did not see it again.
Think a little – little thoughts…
A picture is still worth a thousand and one words. A woman wounded me mortally, yet try as I did, I could not explain in words what she did, and yet I know it Clearly.
You can never change anybody but yourself, because you are the one person to whom you can speak without words, always. And once there is truth, then there is nothing more to say. You can only say the truth, my brother, but you cannot make anybody understand. But, take heart… silence teaches the last lesson finally finally finally finally.
All the things that the words do not say, silence says always.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Windows are opening out of
And into my soul
Like trap-doors trapping out
And waterfalls falling down
And flowers flowering forever away
From night to day
And wailing winds unafraid of me
Of whom I am not afraid
And wishing pains and painful wishes
And undying longings and the longing for immortality
And this poem, like this strange year, is finished.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
There is something about Christmas
Even in places where it is cold, it is warm
Those without electricity bring light to each other
Drought and famine cannot destroy the bread of life
War will not make us forget that we are one human family
And the rich will not be happier than the poor –
There is a light that brought warmth upon this earth
If the cold of loneliness grips your heart this year
May Christmas touch you and make you warm.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
I wrote this poem as part of an interview published in Sabine’s Lifestyle-Kolumne. The body of the interview is however in german, but it can be read here.
*Aka Teraka was my pseudonym.
Spirit flame in the world of it-doesn’t-matter
Radiant star never-the-less in the darkness
Night is a blessing for lost dreamers
It is the world-wanderer’s permanent address
Night makes the seeing blind
And the insight sharp as blade
The fire within will warm the cold
Feet of dew
Young mind, never mind
The world well and shiny made
It is for the old
You were born to bring the new.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 