My Arms Are
Empty: A Song of Lamentation
for Ahmaud Arbery
Oh
When I saw
him die
I no
longer
cared about
the trembling the tears
no one walks these streets except
the very few
and the solitary
runners
choke
me I cannot breathe against
the rhythm
sorrow beats into my
throat
I moved into the morning and I
will
sit against this tree
seven
days they say
seven days
of tattered shirts I no longer
care let the holes be seen seven
times
seven I have found this place and I will
stay
No
I cry and no
I whisper
and no one
cares that I am
become the Pietà
without a child
even
that
even that
And I
hum ‘Oh, Mary,
Don’t You
Weep” and she is now
here with me
saying No
you will you must drain your heart
until the
others come
and
the others will
This tree is
not shelter not from
the devouring
fire it burns
forever and our scars
pulse
with the
rage that cannot sound
when the
others come
I will
know that we
will
then unclench
our swollen
fingers
Our hands
will drum our sorrow
into this
ground
Yes I see
you glance
at me yes I am
the one who
whispers each
child’s
name if I cannot hold
them to my
breast I will
hold them
with my song
Yes
live child
you live
and this
tree and
I will be the place where
no lie can
live
