Ngoc Nguyen Poet Bio

Neither Hypnos, Oneiros, nor Thanatos

Into the world, I, chosen, born
     marked with the finger of their God
upon my crown: a child of scorn
     who fled to the rich land of Nod,
a land of hope and fields of corn,
     of much to curse, and much to laud.

With angels, I called forth arcs of lightning
     from out of the sky—and their power
in my outstretched hands was frightening.
     But Nod's hatred, an evil shower,
denied youth's harsh but gradual brightening  
     of my childhood's most tender hour.

Then came the wraith! Though frightened, I  
     caught a full glance of the grim reaper.
At my bedside, stood it silently by,
     as I peered at it ever deeper;
then it vanished! as I breathed a sigh, 
     frozen like a dead toddler sleeper!

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