Ta'ziyah Naharah

My father sung at funerals. My mother directed the youth choir. So I greet death with a song, and give my generation guidance through rhythm. I traveled at the age of 19 and found a home in New York. With 600.00 a few CDs, and Love. The 4 letter word formerly stated was the only thing that lasted and is still here today. My father kept a guitar in his room, which I would sneak to pick at while he was gone. The vibration of the melody began to become embedded in my heart. Later after a divorce between my parents, the next noble man my mother fell in love with kept his guitar in the living room. One day I picked it up to strum and he suggested that I should take it home with me. The sound had seemed to accommodate my peace, which in turn made my words in song and poetry more elaborate. Now in my moments of silence I experiment.