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Sojourner - Poems by Chika Okeke
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Chika Okeke
Chika Okeke is an artist, curator and art historian. His own work has been shown in Africa, Europe, Asia and North America. He has co-curated such groundbreaking shows as Seven Stories at the Whitechapel Art Gallery, London (1995), The Short Century at the Museum Villa Stuck, Munich (2001) as well as the Nigerian pavilion at the First Johannesburg Biennale. He is an academic consultant for Documenta11, Kassel. Okeke is a member of AKA Circle of Artists, and the Committee for Relevant Art, Lagos. He has written widely on the work of Nigerian and African artists. His current research at Emory University, Atlanta is on Nigerian art during the independence decade. 
By Chika Okeke
Published on November 29, 2005
 

"The road we must now take
Is littered with bones
Of yesterday's sojourners..." 


The Voice of my Spiritchild...

 Sojourner I

The Voice comes from afar

Beyond beds of stars

And the horizon of mars

The Voice rides to my ears

On the wings of technology

The Voice comes as from far

The Voice of my Spiritchild

As from mount Horeb.


Sojourner II

It is cold again today

Though the snow melts away

Leaving in its wake

Damp moist winds

But speaking to you today

My Spiritchild

From far beyond

A thousand miles

Your voice draws into this heart

Warm drafts of joy.


Sojourner III

I reach again into the belly

Of the skygod

I float again beyond clouds

Of tensed nerves

And recurring dream of

Seamless nights

I yearn to touch or hear

The voice of my

Spiritchild

Distanced by hills and streams

Of fourteen days.


Sojourner IV

To the sojourner with a heart

Of ivory

Give a leather shield

Of transcendence

And to the irreverent gambler

On the ever famished road

Give the Queen of hearts

And our god's broken promise.


Sojourner V

The trench is filled

And the water is dark

And murky with leeches

And thorns and bones

The trench we must cross

To our in-laws home

Is filled with dry bones

And painted figurines

From yesteryear's rituals

The trench we must cross

To our father's house

Is filled with fearsome fish

And we must now jump

Into our destinies

The road we must now take

Is littered with bones

Of yesterday's sojourners.