Nwamaka Joy Chime
NO MORE
NKEM.- Nwamaka Joy Chime
Bright colours...
That's what I thought of as my lover swept me off my feet - literally, and spun as I screamed in dizzying delight.
Happiness swirled in my stomach in bright colours: bold red, rich purple,
warm blue, brilliant yellow,
cool orange, hot pink...
He stared into my eyes, and I saw promises of a thousand tomorrows together,
each one better than the one before,
promises that were, somehow, more potent because they were unspoken.
'You are beautiful,' he said, kissing my palm.
'I do not say it often enough.
'I want another sunrise, another sunset, another harmattan;
'I want another full moon, another Christmas.
'I want, not just another, but many more 365 or 366 days, times 50 at least.
'And I want them with you, Nkem. Marry me, Ifeoma'm.'
He carried my 'Yes' with him back to his base; I held on to his promise that he would be back, no matter what.
* * * * *
Endless gray...
Grief lines my heart in thick clumps of dull, endless gray.
He said he missed me in truck loads.
That he could hardly wait to see me when he was on pass.
He said he dreamt of me every night.
He said he had to go on patrol so he would call me back.
He said many things.
They said his jet was shot down as he was returning from the patrol,
that they had recovered his body.
They said it was clearly an ambush.
They said he was a packard officer.
They said many things.
I didn't say anything.
* * * * *
When my lover died, I didn't cry for two days.
The day before I did,
His brother who had been with me since I got the news said he had to go work.
I laughed.
What a reminder!
My lover died, and the world didn't miss a turn;
just kept right on spinning.
He was my world, as I was his.
I will always know the shape and feel of you, Nkem,
but, like air,
I can never hold you again.
Nwamaka Joy Chime
(worthy of mention)
1.
Sometimes I forget you exist,
And when I re-call you with the suddenness of thunder out
rain-swollen clouds,
I want to drink all of you in one big gulp, then retreat into
myself like a collapsed tent so I can
Envelope you fully,
Digest you slowly,
Absorb you completely...
Till I see you in the mirror.
2.
So let the rain
Wash my soul
With its persistent water-song
Wash my soul
So I can be born again for you
Wash my soul
So I can be first touched,
Only touched by you
Wash my soul
So I can be whole again with you
Wash my soul
So my first kiss would be with you
Wash my soul
So that when you pull my shirt to the side to kiss my bare
shoulder,
It would be a first
Wash my soul
So you can imprint all over me with each kiss to my
forehead,
Each long bear hug when I don't even like you,
Each caress of the small of my back so I shiver like I’m cold,
Each tickle when you're feeling naughty just so you can watch
my eyes light up in my outrage,
Each foot rub after a crazy day,
Imprints so deep,
The holes you leave are yet again filled by you,
Loving liquid and soul-filling solid,
Turn by turn,
Time after time.
Joy Chime
PRESS FOR PROGRESS.
Black...
Black for the
centuries of pain in Africa,
for official
complicity in the denial of justice in Asia;
for the murder
and burial of truth in Australia;
for less pay on
account of gender in Europe;
for the
recurring physical, emotional and psychological damage in North America;
for the arrogant
ignorance in South America,
Black.
Red...
Red for the
blood spilled in Algeria, in Bangladesh;
the dreams
brutally crushed in Canada, in Denmark;
the opportunities
illogically denied in Jamaica, in Colombia;
the voices
cruelly silenced in Nigeria, in Australia;
the substantial
contributions blatantly disregarded in France, in Argentina;
the
life-threatening situations mocked in Ghana, in Saudi Arabia;
the
accomplishments hatefully reduced to nothing in India, in Portugal;
the
hypocritically unequal standards in Egypt, in Brazil;
Red.
Yellow...
Yellow for the
strength to crack the icy walls of forced silence about our reality;
the joy over
shattered glass ceilings in the work place;
for the
acknowledgement of the past,
for support and
progress towards a more desirable future;
for the
brightness of our rising against all odds,
Yellow.
Purple...
Purple for our
enviable potential as human beings, not only as women;
for proper
recognition of our contributions in agriculture, arts, business, crafts,
education, family life, government, healthcare, inventions, music, science,
sports, technology;
for the
ever-increasing realisation that woman is not synonymous with weak, and a
capital W is shaped like a crown to prove that we come by this royalty and
elegance naturally;
that we are
human persons first, women second, not lesser, never lesser.
Purple for
possibilities, for powerful persistence, for progress,
Purple.
Joy Chime
You call me beloved
In your deep, deep voice filled with much love
It glides over my skin like warm chocolate
Like satin negligee after a hot bath
or callused hands on a lover's cheeks.
You call me beloved
In a way that says
I've missed you and I hope you can tell
from the way I say your name,
like rich promises influenced by the heady wine of your
intoxicating presence in my heart.
I smile
Widely
Because I hear all that and more.
You call me beloved.
I hear everything that you do not say;
Do you believe me when I say I love you? Do you miss me when
I'm not with you? Do you love me?
You call me beloved in your deep deep voice filled with much
love
It is enough.
Joy Chime
'No one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark'.
-Warsan Shire
The Manifold Place is home, and really, what makes it home is
not the pretty decor or the urban groove.
A couple of years ago or so, I walked into The Manifold Place
one evening after quite a while,
and it felt like strong arms wrapped around me
and held me close to a warm body
pulsing with warmth and wonderful welcome.
Warmth is the pulse of this place,
and love is the blood that flows through it.
This home offers healthy nutrition:
the rich, rightly divided, undiluted word of God that causes
faith to rise in your heart, uncensored, raw, hearty worship to an audience of
One, love, and hope.
Broken wings, tired eyes, crippled dreams, weary souls,
You find that bright hope runs and spins and twirls
here.
Your soul will uncurl and open towards the Truth and
Life,
causing your eyes to sparkle once more as your dreams receive
life and leap in your heart,
Baby, you will heal and rise and fly again,
And others will see you and know how it is done.
How can you miss the beauty resident here?
You need only look at the choicest of the choice souls for an
introduction.
Beautiful minds and souls,
sweet spirits and beautiful faces,
incredibly beautiful stories that have the signature of the
Master Potter,
living breathing proofs that something can be brought out of
nothing.
Oh yes! There is beauty here.
The smiles and laughter are not a facade,
they are evidence that you can come out of the valley of the
shadow of death with a song.
In this place, you find support.
Synergy. Kingdom partnerships. Collaboration. Fellowship.
These are not just nice-sounding words that roll off the tongue as easily as
rain off a roof, oh no.
There are hands to hold in prayer,
in worship,
in execution of great ideas,
there are shoulders to lean on so you can rest, not quit, when
you're tired,
there's a strong, vibrant community to be part of,
and it's all the better because they are of the household of
faith.
'They tell me the city sings a song, and you can't help but
sing along'. Well, in this house, you'll find people who are proofs that you
don't have to conform.
There is peace here.
You can bring in the heartache,
the disappointments that drag your shoulders down and make it
nearly impossible to stand straight,
the inner struggles that are too personal to share,
the pain inflicted by a world gone mad,
and lay it all down, lay yourself down with it,
knowing you won't leave with the same burdens you came
with,
knowing without a doubt that beyond the pastors,
beyond the lights and the music,
El Mekaddishkem is here to sanctify,
El Shalom is present to soothe, to bring relief,
El Ropheka is capable of healing,
and El Yashib is here to restore.
With that reassurance, we spin in a dance, then we bow our
heads,
throw out our arms, and cry,
'Abba,
Baa'mi,
Daddy,
Nna'm,
Father'.
Aye, aye, there's peace here.
This is a psalm, a poem, a prayer,
And when you count your blessings for 2017,
I hope you remember to count this home.
Joy chime
PRESS
FOR PROGRESS.
Black...
Black for the centuries of pain in Africa,
for official complicity in the denial of justice in Asia;
for the murder and burial of truth in Australia;
for less pay on account of gender in Europe;
for the recurring physical, emotional and psychological damage
in North America;
for the arrogant ignorance in South America,
Black.
Red...
Red for the blood spilled in Algeria, in Bangladesh;
the dreams brutally crushed in Canada, in Denmark;
the opportunities illogically denied in Jamaica, in Colombia;
the voices cruelly silenced in Nigeria, in Australia;
the substantial contributions blatantly disregarded in France,
in Argentina;
the life-threatening situations mocked in Ghana, in Saudi
Arabia;
the accomplishments hatefully reduced to nothing in India, in
Portugal;
the hypocritically unequal standards in Egypt, in Brazil;
Red.
Yellow...
Yellow for the strength to crack the icy walls of forced silence
about our reality;
the joy over shattered glass ceilings in the work place;
for the acknowledgement of the past,
for support and progress towards a more desirable future;
for the brightness of our rising against all odds,
Yellow.
Purple...
Purple for our enviable potential as human beings, not only as
women;
for proper recognition of our contributions in agriculture,
arts, business, crafts, education, family life, government, healthcare,
inventions, music, science, sports, technology;
for the ever-increasing realisation that woman is not synonymous
with weak, and a capital W is shaped like a crown to prove that we come by this
royalty and elegance naturally;
that we are human persons first, women second, not lesser, never
lesser.
Purple for possibilities, for powerful persistence, for
progress,
Purple.
Joy
Chime
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