There are people who live on the street The street’s human face and heartbeat By rain and sun, by snow and by sleet These are those people that we meet Shuffling past and huddling by our feet Who we glance barely by and rarely greet Kindness, it seems, is truly a mean feat. Arw we afraid to share in their defeat? Is life a race in which we all compete? Does shame force the broken to retreat? Do losers get an opportunity to repeat? People at their lowest don’t need our conceit. A part of ourselves lives on the street Looking for dignity, a roof and something to eat. Che Chidi Chukwumerije Poems from the inner river
sympathy
NEIGHBOURS
Do you hear that wailing?
Somebody is dead next door
Someone is left behind and weeping
Behind heaven’s closed door
Another earthlife is ended forevermore
Quietly I watch the lights of the siren
As they grow brighter in the distance
Soon they cover up my neighbour’s silent scream
Then all grows quiet for one instance
Death welcomes every circumstance
I know that couple next door
They never failed to say hello
Now one of them I will hear nevermore
But whenever I see the other’s sorrow
I will smile and say, gently, hello.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
GHETTO BROTHER
In the ghetto
I get to see
The living me
Watching me with eyes
Wiser than the eyes watching me
Living my thousand lives
While I search in my mind for lies
With which to neutralise
The truth reflected back at me
By the other me.
– CHE CHIDI CHUKWUMERIJE.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 