Ode to You

Ode to You by Nyzaiah Gore

It was you who showed me that all that I wanted to achieve rests inside me— the person is not the sum of its parts, rather the sum of their will. And that will showed me that despite the craziness of the world, I can control its tempo— how fast the world moves is up to me.

And it was you who showed me how to use my hands— hands that can clap to the beat of the drum, hands that can whop ass and take names later, hands that convey messages to the kids listening and shows that the color of their skin does not define who they are.

And what you taught came in more in just beats per minute, rather it lasts a lifetime. Because my voice has been the Arsenal of my thoughts, my voice will no longer be drowned by the other instruments because I am a Drum, a Dong, a Crash that rings in the ear of drivers.

And when I sing— you have always been the choir, you have told me to measure up to my full potential, and that showed me that even music has sharp, rough edges that can’t be changed— but it’s beauty is what makes it unique.

You taught me that the phrase Every Good Boy Does Fine is a tale, for the ones who truely work hard deserves the award. And for that mom I am thankful.

Little Brother, I will teach you what mom has taught me— let your smile part the hateful clouds for the sun will always shine upon you, enough to soak up all the tears that will come your way.

And when you’re hurt or sick— I will teach you that music is easier to digest than medicine, music can be the bandage that holds our world together— the vaccine for all diseases, a man that cures all the pain.

I will teach you that music is an art— art is an instrument— and you can manipulate it to become the greatest masterpiece— you are— music.

Your heart can beat, feet can stomp, eyes can blink— you are an instrument, use your keys as a way to change the world through your fingers— because that’s what our mom taught me.