Mimi Nguyen

The blind man knows the direction of destiny

Crushing gravel along the way, the only way

He walks on all fours among man and beast.

West of the moon, east of the sun

He hands out instructions and designs the perfect map

For those wounded in the belly

For those lost between silence

Dreams hang on a wheelbarrow,

half buried against solitude.

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No one wants a sentence on life

Someone harbors hope and remembers rain.

 

The blind man draws circles and traces charms

Bloodline cursed over three generations:

A mother burns her baby with fire and water

To prove the newborn is not his father's future assassin.

One brother drags a corpse in a suitcase for revolution

The other flees into exile and carries the jungle inside.

 

A groom abandons his bride

A jealous mistress poisons her rival

An old man refuses to bury his daughter

Fortnight and the mourning still on his hands

He was surprised when a woman shot him.

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Emotion has a motion trapped in mid-air

Knowledge is found and fixed in a trajectory

If you believe in the blind man's words

For elixir and enlightenment

There are certain herbs that could harm and heal

That could win and destroy love all at once

It's a matter of denial or consumption.

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And if you can look someone deeply in the eye

The grass meets the sky when you trust with your life

Someone wails in the night and trawls through desire.