| Joy and sex and spirit and hope and soul and pride and glory ome together in her voice. The earth rocks under her rhythm. When she growls, the jungles tremble with anticipation. There is sweet salvation between the note and sadness of longings between the sheets. She can free the prisoners of love and break the chains of the weary with a song. Her voice is a natural wonder. It knows no human bounds and like the power of love it can heal the broken and wounded and make perfection rain down on the flawed parade. She takes you to a paradise that is just outside your door, outside your self, outside anything that previously existed. Before there was sin, there was a voice like hers. She sings and a new world begins. The bitter tears become sweet water that washes away the pain. A chorus rises up from the confusion. She steps forward offering companionship that comes fromt he church and she brings a gospel wail to the dancefloor where there sre no longer any strangers, only dancers. Her beat has no mercy. The sounds she makes between the words are in a secret language that is understood in the ghetto, in heaven and wherever lovers and strangers meet to kiss. There is something to do with survival, something about joy, something hot and something you can't handle until it's in your blood. Angels fly from her mouth and whisper courage between screams of ecstasy. She holds integrity and truth in a single note that soars from Detroit to Babylon to the Erotic City and beyond intot he wild heart of us. The center is in her voice. There is a balance as flexible as hope and as exciting as the first breath of freedom after a long confinement. She howls out a warning that reveals life before our eyes and gives birth to an awesome desire. Her artistry shines like a beacon that gives strength and solace to the lost who are in temporary darkness and it casts aside doubt with a melody of light. She has witnessed the new day and sung of its glories. Although the times may have changed she continues to champion the timeless messages of her father. There still is no stopping the real thing. Now she is moving forward like a heatwave stroking the night until sweat drops fromt he crooked stars above. Love live the night. Long live The Queen of Soul. Long live Aretha Franklin. Look up~Her name is written in the stars. Written by Richard Sassin |