Some doubt
That politics will not close
The cracks in society
That medicine will not heal
The bleeding soul
That intellect cannot remind
Intuition of Paradise
So they spend their lives
Listening to their head
And ignoring their heart –
They grow the mind
Then leave it behind
When they depart, listening for
An inner voice grown uneasily silent.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Nation must dig deep into
The luminous garden of soul
For new spirits must incarnate
Nation must dig deep into
The forgotten regions of soul
For sleeping spirit must awake
If we don’t change inside
Nothing will change outside.
We will merely pile up academic degrees.
– che chidi chukwumerije.
I see a mountain
In the distance
A mysterious mind
Over matter
The birds that circle its heights
Like higher thoughts
That hover above a dreamer’s mind
Seeking to make contact
For oft the thoughts we think
And think are ours
Are borrowed
Upon a lazy afternoon, somewhere
In Creation.
A child sits somewhere unseen
Locked in an old body
Each time it smiles
Rainbows and rainbows of new thoughts
Surge out, unite, swing forth, to go seek out
Like-minded wonderers dreaming lazily
Upon a quiet moment, somewhere
In Creation
Blindly receiving the seeds of new thoughts
And thinking the thoughts they think
Are theirs alone
As if the mind of a dreamer
Were not a fertile garden too.
– che chidi chukwumerije.
The punishment for being brave
Is having nothing to do
But be brave –
A tidal wave is rising in my soul.
The reward for being brave
Is having to do nothing
But be brave –
A tidal wave is crashing in my soul.
She warmed her cold tongue with
The flaming words of a passionate poet and
Lashed a gutter of decadent lava on
My soul.
Yet I told her still the truth
Again and again and again
And again and again, again
And again.
– che chidi chukwumerije
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.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 