Two Twenty-Three 2020, Remembering Ahmaud Arbery

you may have been inquisitivean aspiring electriciancurious about internal wiringan existing structurethe frame, its knotted veinsa building in progressin neighborhood streets, viewed as a violationon familiar sidewalks, stalked as a targetdid you know the trees?did you recognize the truck?all white everythingWhite MenWhite FamilyWhite RageWhite ViolenceWhite Supremacyhunted, chased, corneredfrom a jog to a fightshot three times and still swingingbroad daylightstrange how strangers like youbecome haunting stories and gut-wrenching scenesa modern-day lynchingand yet most didn't know for weeksmaybe time is a necessary ingredient for changebut you were killed before your timewhen many didn't even pretendhaving not yet been forced to changefebruary, pre-quarantinethe majority were stilltoo distanttoo dumbor too numbor too preoccupied to seehow deeply we needed to grieveeventually, like Mike Brownin cap and gownyour smile was shareda black tie affaira visage of Black lifebefore, a gesture to morethan cell phone videos oftrauma and deathstillat the hands of policesome posted selfiesjogging in your namebut the quiet, the passivewas all too commonall so painfully mundanefollowed by recusals, latent affiliationswithin corrupt precinctsgoverned by the status quoin what should have been Stacey Abrams's statethe cruelty 2020 put on displaythoroughlymercilesslycaptured by the details of your deathattended to by mosthardly, and only after the factas a foreshadow, a precursor, a signal dismissedbefore George Floyd died without gunshotsbefore Freedom Summer burned and swelled with ragebefore denial soaked eyes opened upto collective cries to protect Black livesyou had family and friendsbut we remember you, Ahmaud Arberywhen we say her name, Breonna Tayloras if those similarly murderedare destined to forever bewillfully, callouslyyour closest kin