And the blind man plays the blues

The blind fiddler,
Skin drawn tight over wire-thin cheekbones,
Rib cage a broken bamboo basket,
Mouths an ancient melody
Through gaps where teeth once were.
Sitting like a contortionist
Behind an age-old vertical fiddle,
He plays the beautiful 'Liang Xiao'.

The haunting melody of ‘beautiful night’
Is lost in the flow of passersby,
Like a ripple in a fast-flowing stream.
Yet the eyeless man
Looks deep into their souls
And he bends the strings,
Twisting the evocative melody
Into a shocking scream of pain.

Momentarily the melody reappears.
Simple yet subtle,
It lingers while straining to break free;
Until the blind man, on a whim,
Bends the stings again,
And the melody melds
Into the dark tones of the delta.
And the blind man plays the blues.