Shine, the diminished violinist. My name is Sarah Hyper. Playing solver tunes on
the violin would do much more for my father than I have in 15 years. It would
enable him to dream dreams of restitution. All those years I wouldn't play for
him. His broken American dream for me, while so many other young talented and
black violinists take their place with the elite. All it takes is practice, he says,
but you'd rather sing for yourself than play for me. Afraid of squeaks and
foibles. While symphonic sounds echo passionately through chambers of our
hearts in this poem remembers a first love. My name.
Silence takes father on grand tours to Hollywood instills of curvaceous
instruments held gingerly by ten-year-old hands. Holding fast to
Pernambuco stave, sword and bone to heavy Sonora Senus, which reverberate
through the calm hush taking listeners to a zone.
Proud fathers sit front row or even balcony and provide roses. While captors
are enraptured by her radiance as she takes her bow. Young, talented and black
violinist yet father just wishes to take his daughter home for dinners and
accolades where memories are stored for a lifetime. I need God to hold the
strings of my life and pull them slowly in the direction in which I need to go.
I need him to pluck failing hearts and massage them to Strangendo. Guide my
fingers and bow to save lives. To peak the tip of minds bursting from
confinement blossoming love. That is why black magicians do music. Saw doubts
about the future in half, making wildly staccato thoughts diminish into a
piano roll. God is trying to speak, not through melanin, but aura is flowing
through the black things. Music transcends. The aura of black music is a
rainbow. It borrows a beat, samples a riff and drops a new sound. Some say black
music is used to destroy the community. I say no. It is here to teach, to restore,
renew and rejuvenate. Hip hop has married strings and changed the world to
create hyperbalance. To ignite, excite and in sight change. Jazz with its boom
jang tang, jang jang sway. Black violin with its dilly dilly dilly dilly dilly
dilly dilly dilly dilly. It's as if headphones are God's stethoscope. Put
through the thousand trumpets beating in his heart and we are privileged to hear,
to scribe and produce. Powerful words exude from black music's immediacy.
Answering pertinent questions on our minds. Staying relevant by changing with
the times. Alicia Keys, Joe Budden, John Legend and common to name a few. We see
media contradictions now and attempts to mislead are used with double-speak.
We've come a long way from learning the master's religion. So why don't you play
for your father?
