Whistling Pines of Home
How do I speak this tale of a once bleeding heart, my dear fellow human beings on this trying and often complicated journey called life? Indeed, the unwavering affirmation of life's spiritual dimension got me through in God's loving care. Sometime, during early 2002, in Geneva, Switzerland, I got the devastating pill of race and colour based rejection plus unreciprocated love from an Argentine lady whom I've been dreaming of dating. I did my humble best to woo her so many times. But she stood her ground based on some race and colour based, heart-wrenching words she said to me.
With deep pain, one day, I woke up to a bright new morning; and realized that green pastures abound in God's creation for those of us who are willing to believe in the inherent goodness of humankind - since we are made in the image of an Infinite Heavenly Creator. To ease my chocking pain from her strings of heartless rejections of me, I wrote her the following hearty, poetic words to finally say goodbye:
A dirge and epilogue is sung for me
on your fleeing island of uninterested
unavailability. The owl hoots no more
on moonlit nights of home.
Biblical Zacchaeus and Matthew: Oh!
Little me: "pass me not O gentle
Saviour...". Green pastures abound.
My peace unbound. Your island is
so real. The bridge stands no more
on humane pathway to landscapes. Kai!
Your island is so real, daughter of
the Almighty Creator.
Pathway to landscapes: The eagle I am
must soar this new day to welcoming
mountain-tops to view, one last time,
your pathway to landscapes.
At the stroke of midnight, this blessed
new day, I will depart your island of
unavailability; and sail for the high
seas. My smiling ship is created. The
wind from others beckons. Pines of home
whistle. The rainbow awaits. My simple
ship is set to sail; and I must bid you
farewell in God's care. I invite thee
no more on earthly footpaths. Oh!
Epitaph! This Epitaph! Would that
I wrote thee not; or perhaps
forgotten my lines on this
strange stage through life.
Heaven's gardens: Remember, when we
finally meet there, I am the bald
Eagle that tarried for years on your
unfeeling island of unavailability :-
made whole with heavenly bounties in
His soul saving bossom.
AH! Epitaph! This farewell! This glad
dirge sung for me! This epilogue! Oh!
Little me. The owl hoots no more on
moonlit nights of home because this
glad dirge is sung. This emerald
epitaph all for you to set me freeee!
Heaven's gardens and meadow sea
shores. I set sail at midnight
under
heaven's
loving
eyes
and
hope
u
n
c
h
a
i
n
e
d
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
Interestingly, I hand wrote the original copy of this farewell to her on a 16 feet scroll. I made the long scroll by joining papers together. And gave the scroll to her shocked self. The original copy is titled: Epitaph and is much longer than what I've posted here. Notably, I wrote the first draft of my Epitaph or Farewell to her in a Geneva, Switzerland churchyard.
Having come this far with me, kindly join me, after these seven years, in still saying this hearty farewell to her; knowing that I've been so blessed with a graceful and ever loving wife whom I call my big angel; plus an amazing daughter whom I call my little angel. Surely, I've been soothed to abiding inspiration and soulful joy in heaven's glorious garden by those whistling pines of home that grew up with me in Nbawsi. What thinkest thou?
Ugonna Wachuku
http://uwachuku.googlepages.com
http://www.redroom.com/member/ugonna
About Ugonna
Ugonna is simply a creative soul of inspirational and empathic dimensions. He started writing in 1983, at the age of twelve - his second year in high school.
In creating his works, Ugonna has an abidingly uplifting and enchanting literary way of...
Connections
Causes Ugonna Wachuku Supports
American Association of University Women [AAUW]: http://www.aauw.org
Care2: Making the...
Hi ugonna
The prophet Muhammad (S.A.W.) addressed the people during the last pilgrimage, saying: "O People! Your God is one; your father is one; no preference of an Arab neither over non-Arab nor of a non-Arab over an Arab or red over black or black over red except for the most righteous. Verily the most honored of you is the most righteous."
For yourlove with the Argentinian woman,in this case I say:
Desperate love is the noblest form of love.Keep that love noble by accepting its non-achievement.
Hombre
Keep that love noble ...
Thanks a lot, Abdelwahab, for your generous, spiritual insight. I've already kept "that love noble" by letting go; and saying farewell to her 7 years ago. Keep well and joyful, my dear Hombre.
Ugonna, some people are
Ugonna, some people are simply unable to see with their hearts - they are always concerned about what things will seem to be or look like. Better let them go as you did.
I don´t know the reason why you pointed out that the lady was Argentinian, but I´ve already had my share of discrimination with Argentinians as well. As a general rule (of course this is not true for everybody; I have great Argentinian friends) they don´t like Brazilians - they think we mingle too much ;-).
Better let them go as you did ...
Yes, Luciana, letting go can really be a soulfully enriching balm of healing. I greatly appreciate your line of thought on this. Pointing out her nationality is part of my own way of driving the narrative home since her basis for rejecting me was colour and race.
But of course, as you mentioned, there are wonderful people too from her country. And I have met so many of them too - with some as friends.
Also, as you rightly said, there are still people in this world who are: "simply unable to see with their hearts - they are always concerned about what things will seem to be or look like." Sometimes too, that myopic kind of view on the world and our humanity can be from a flaw in one's home up-bringing.
Whatever ever the case may be, it is so good and hopeful to know that the world is also filled with people with your kind of one human race world view. I am very grateful for your thoughts on this matter. It's an interesting conversation ...
I admire you for your
I admire you for your ability to turn such a doubly wretched experience into something so sublime as the portion of the poem you have put before us and the rest you mention.
There are many less mature and less creative mechanisms for dealing with trauma. You appear to have joy and/or peace at your center and are thus able to keep yourself righted irregardless of the storms fate casts in your direction.
Clearly it was her loss.
joy and peace at your center
Indeed, David, you too have a soothing way with words that I cherish. It's inspiring to read your thoughts always. Surely, I also use my own poetry to overcome traumatic experience. I've come through much pain and trauma with such practice - going back to read my own poetic thoughts to be healed of some emotional crack.
Yes, as you noticed, I have that Jesus' peace and joy which passes all human understanding. And that's what keeps me going on this sometimes devastating journey called life. It's the same kind of peace that let Jesus sleep through the storm on the lake of Galilee: Mark, Chapter4: verses 35 to 41: The Holy Bible.
Your touching, straight-to-the-point words on this matter will ever stay with me. Also, note that peace and joy within me is well explicated in one of my poems titled: Wherever You Lead. Below, I present, for you especially, Wherever You Lead:
The end of the day is drawing near.
The end of dreams and hope is winding
its weary way down green mountain slopes
and lush country-sides.
There is a windy wave painting patterns
and rainbows on the cute canvas of my
soul. There are birds singing a dirge
for new hope in life.
With the fresh fragrance of that dewy
despair in your simple soul, you flower
fleeing gardens in the deeper me.
There are bleak roads and bountiful
pathways. There are dreams, riddles
and hope. There are longings and
age-long yearnings.
Your heart is beating fast.
Mine is beating fast too.
Mountains and hills stand tall;
rising so high to kiss the sky's
blue-grey lips. Windows and shadows
open before this road that I have to
take. There are dreams, riddles and
brilliant blossoming hope.
I ponder at that tasty aroma from the
sweet despair in your simple soul:
Sometimes, it seems all dark.
Some days, it feels all lost.
Somehow, it echoes hopelessness.
Somewhere, it shows a world in
hatred; a planet in conflict with
the inspirational breath of her own
beauty.
Now, it feels all dark.
Yet, there is a smiling sea of
love in every human heart.
There is a life-giving well in
the sea of empty hearts.
There is love and emerald in
your weary eyes.
Even when they wish you dead,
there are doors to life on
the welcoming threshold of
heaven's lush country-side.
I know: because, I've been there.
There are new roads of opportunity and
dreams to follow. There are welcoming
nightingales and caring angels on this
avenue to life and hope.
There are waterfalls and rivers of love
wherever you lead. Wherever you lead, there
are guiding stars and soothing sea waves on
the blessed beach. There is peace. There is
joy. There is truth. There is life - wherever
you lead.
Wherever you lead:
My heaven's love.
My life.
My saving lamb,
wherever you lead,
I will follow.
Take my little,
feeble hand.
Take my hungry
footsteps.
Lead me to your
well of life and
hope because there
are smiling handsome
hawks swooping in on
the landscape of my
pleading soul.
Let me not see these
tall mountains and
howling hills. Be in
my small head. Let me
cast my cares and
burdens on you. Take
my little hand.
Wherever you lead:
I will follow.
Take my worries.
Take my little,
feeble hand.
I am nothing.
I am empty.
Take my
little
hand.
where
ever
you
lead
( )
.
.
.
!
Notably, David, you can also check out more of my poetic thoughts and poetry, with readers comments/critiques on my creative writing portfolio, at: http://www.postpoems.com/members/ugonna
It's been exciting to have had this opportunity to converse with you concerning Whistling Pines of Home. Let's keep the spirit going ...
Hi Ugonna, I have gone to
Hi Ugonna,
I have gone to your portfolio and it is full of many wonderful pieces, as well as a detailed summary of your interesting life. You have a large and striking body of work. The joy and eloquence in your voice to which I and others here at Red Room have become accustomed is everywhere evident. I would recommend your site to everyone here:
http://www.postpoems.com/members/ugonna
Re: eloquence in your voice ...
Hello again, Dear David:
Thanks for letting me know that you checked my portfolio out. Your hearty support, encouragement, recommendation and appreciation of my creative work is well cherished by me.
Thank you so much for taking your valuable time to get back to me on this. I am very grateful indeed. Have a wonderful weekend! We'll keep in touch!
Respectfully:
Ugonna
http://uwachuku.googlepages.com
A moving poem
This peom clearly expressed the pain of the moment. I understand the unfair rejection based on race very well. An execellent collection of words.
execellent collection of words
Surely, Milton, I do gladly connect to your understanding of the Whistling Pines of Home subject of love, race and rejection.
Thank you so much for taking the time to comment. I am very grateful, indeed. Have a wonderful day!
http://uwachuku.googlepages.com
Ugonna, I don’t know how
Ugonna,
I don’t know how the situation really was. Still it’s horrible to say such things. But sometimes, depending on a situation, women (men, too) could say outrageous things out of desperation. And the desperation is very personal and can be anything. I think men tend to ignore women’s desperation if they are desperate. The other way is probably true. And it’s also true that prejudice people can turn non-prejudice once they fall in love. I think she was obviously not into you, and even if you were in a different race and color, she could still be not into you for a chemistry reason. Anyway, for the obvious reason, I think she didn’t deserve your hard-worked long poem on a 16 feet roll.
I’m glad you said good-bye and met your wife, and you’ve been happy.
Re: long poem on a 16 feet roll
Dear Keiko:
I'm really touched by your objective analysis of the situation; including your point on the chemistry between women and men:
But then, based on having worn the shoe at that time, If I were of another race or colour, from what I know it would not have been the same - especially concerning the inhumane things said to me personally based on race and colour.
If she were not into me, at least, she should have had the honesty to simply say so instead of bringing colour and race into it. And she should have refused my scroll farewell gift as well. As I told Luciana earlier, in a response, sometimes, flaws in one's home up-bringing can make one's world view unreasonable and strange.
As for her not deserving my long, painstaking poem on a 16 feet scroll, I agree with you rationally. But then, I was walking by faith -in terms of what unseen healing of a broken heart that awaited me after the experience . And that long poem on an amazing 16 feet scroll to her was my own personal, therapeutic way of saying farewell. The process of writing it; its scroll length; and words therein were healing balm for my broken soul.
Indeed, I am so grateful for your comment and heart-felt analysis of the situation. Thank you so much for your valuable time. And let's keep our spirit of the humane going in the interest of humankind ...
Respectfully:
Ugonna
http://uwachuku.googlepages.com
http://www.redroom.com/member/ugonna
Farewell!
Hello Ugonna,
Your poem is beautiful and the words have certainly moved you to the right healing place (in your heart), to meet your wife.
Letting go, doesn't mean having to "close" our hearts. As your faith kept it open. An open heart "feels" and grows in wisdom, while letting go, knowing we never really say good-bye to anyone. Until we all meet again, which we will, one day.
Thank you for your lovely healing words of "Whistling Pines at Home"
Truly,
Catherine Nagle
Right Healing Place ...
Dear Catherine:
You certainly put it so memorably well in saying that: "Your poem is beautiful and the words have certainly moved you to the right healing place (in your heart), to meet your wife." It's been so valuable reading your comment on this Whistling Pines of Home issue. You always have my goodwill and appreciation. With very good wishes: Ugonna http://uwachuku.googlepages.com
A farewell gift like a blue diamond
You presented your former love with a farewell gift like a rare and precious blue diamond that testifies to the sincerity and beauty of what you offered. It stands as a worthy representation of love itself and can now be left in the hands of the one it honors to serve as such. A possibly more powerful poem of closure would be the one(s) that celebrates the "big angel" and the "little angel" in soaring lyricism surpassing even these extraordinary eagle-winged lines.
Aberjhani
author of The American Poet Who Went Home Again
and Encyclopedia of the Harlem Renaissance (Facts on File)
Big and Little Angel's Soaring Lyricism
Dear Aberjhani:
You do have an enchanting style of language rendition which I greatly appreciate. And here, concerning the subject of that "former love" within Whistling Pines of Home, you proved so again in your insightful comment. Accordingly, I specially cherish your deep understanding of the concept and therapeutic motive of that ironic but soulfully sincere, farewell gift.
On my "soaring lyricism" for "the big angel", it's titled: Morning Dews. And its original copy is some 20 feet long on scroll - in long hand!
That for my little angel is still in long hand - because, mostly, for major creative works, I write in long hand first, on paper before typing on the computer or any where else. To read the poetic dedication for my big angel titled: Morning Dews, with people's comments, please, go to the following link:
http://www.postpoems.com/cgi-bin/displaypoem.cgi?pid=266917
Thank you for caring to be on my blog. You are especially welcome with all my glad goodwill. I'll be checking out your creative work extensively! Let's keep in touch!
Respectfully, with very good wishes:
Ugonna
http://uwachuku.googlepages.com
A poet's heart is a heavy heart
Thank you for sharing your poem. I have found that poetry is a wonderful way to express one's heart. It often helps us to find the road to healing, and in the end you did find your two blessed "angels."
Two Blessed Angels in the Light
Dear Leah!
A special welcome to you because you share the same name with my Dad's own blessed angel - my Mom: Sylvia Leah Ada Egobuenyi Wachuku. You can see my Mom's photo with my two younger brothers and I on the following link:
http://www.care2.com/c2c/photos/view/238/702581388/298275225/UgonnaMummy...
Yes, indeed, I did find my "two blessed angels" in the light after the darkness and pain of the kind of experience expressed in Whistling Pines of Home.
Especially, I really appreciate your deep cognition of the "road to healing" that even one's own poetry can manifest if one is willing enough to tap into that spiritual reality in all of its uplifting dimensions.
I am very grateful to you you for taking the time to come by and say your mind on the humble thoughts of my little self within Whistling Pines of Home. Have a wonderful and refreshing weekend in GOD's loving care. And do keep expressing your heart too. Cheers!
Respectfully:
Ugonna
http://uwachuku.googlepages.com
letting go, to set ourselve free
Ugonna, you are very generous to share these poems with us!
Racism is a belief so against common sense it's shocking that neither reason nor love can overcome the depth to which it is rooted into some people . . . at their loss and at the price of causing much pain.
Often people think of racism as only white skinned against dark, probably because of the apartheid situation still existing in the U.S. But I have experienced racism against myself, against my husband and observed so many forms of white against white, etc. that I realize there must be two very strong attachments that hold people to their racism. First the fear of taking one's own stand and second the fear of rejection from the group in which they want to be accepted. Don't both things taken together equal lack of self confidence?
I'm copying out your poem "Where You Lead" to keep on my refrigerator so I can read parts of it during the day. I suspect there is a melody out there to go with this poem and transform them into lyrics!
Well said Vicki
"First the fear of taking one's own stand and second the fear of rejection from the group in which they want to be accepted. Don't both things taken together equal lack of self confidence?"
Which leads to indifference too.
When you love let go....if it returns it is yours, otherwise it was never meant to be!
When you love, let go
And you put it commendably so well too, Sumathi: "When you love let go....if it returns it is yours, otherwise it was never meant to be!"
It's really inspiring to see the wide array of views and ideas coming from our conversation on this Whistling Pines of Home! Thank you so much for being part of the conversation, Sumathi!
http://uwachuku.googlepages.com
Worthy Freedom in Letting Go
You are specially welcome, Vicki dear, it is so uplifting this new day reading your soulfully enriching analysis in response to the racism content of Whistling Pines of Home.
Yes, I too can feel the melody in Wherever You Lead. Transforming them into lyrics is a good idea. I'll keep that in mind.
Also thank you so much for adopting Wherever You Lead to go on your refrigerator. Indeed, your thoughts on this Whistling Pines of Home have given me huge room for more abiding reflection and creative meditation in terms of our common humanity. Let's keep that spirit of humakind's oneness going ...
http://uwachuku.googlepages.com
'Can you tell me what had happened to you then, dear?'
well,....
While I am still remembering our happiest moments together,
it was a long long time ago....!
When the lightest moments in life turns the heaviest, the lead weighs me down.
Rainbow did touch my heart when bejeweled stars had twinkled bright on the night of nights.
Fleeting happiness did brighten my heart when you had blushed your scarlet smile.
Moments still leaves me baffled, when I recollect my precious moments on life's sea shore.
A strong wave wipes my name on the sand yet my footprints will remain undeletable in time.
Turbulent emotions surges from within brimming like dew on a glass of wine.
Salt in my tears touches my lips, reviving the taste of lost moments.
While I am still at healing my bleeding heart, you were in it a long long time ago!
Some memories die hard.....isn't it?
Rainbow did touch my heart
Yes, Sumathi dear, there is freedom and rainbow hope plus assurance in letting go and looking ahead for better days and new realities of love.
That's why I especially appreciate the following lines from your poetic and thought-provoking response:
"Rainbow did touch my heart when bejeweled stars had twinkled bright on the night of nights.
Fleeting happiness did brighten my heart when you had blushed your scarlet smile.
Moments still leaves me baffled, when I recollect my precious moments on life's sea shore.
A strong wave wipes my name on the sand yet my footprints will remain undeletable in time."
Truly, it is better to let go with the spirit of being able to recollect "precious moments on life's sea shore" than holding on-to another's heartless indifference and nonreciprocal love; knowing that the "the lead weighs me down." That way one can still live to love another day!
Indeed, Sumathi, I greatly appreciate your valuable time here. And this powerful philosophical, poetic response you gave to Whistling Pines of Home, love and letting go!!
http://uwachuku.googlepages.com