Concert Program

Running From, Running To | A Benefit Concert Honoring the Life of Ahmaud Arbery

September 20, 2026 7:00 PM

A Note from the Artistic Director

When I began writing Running From, Running To, I kept returning to one question: what does a community do with a story it cannot put down? Ahmaud Arbery went for a run and did not come home. The world learned his name through grief. This work asks us to know him another way: as a son, as a young man with a life ahead of him, and as a call to each of us about who we choose to be for one another.

Tonight you will hear that story carried by voices. Some movements sit heavy with the weight of what happened. Others reach toward something that feels like freedom. Both are true, and we perform them with the blessing of Ahmaud's family, whose trust is the greatest honor of my artistic life. We made this concert pay-what-you-can because this story belongs to everyone, and we hope you will stay for the conversation that follows.

Music like this is not finished at the final chord. It is finished in what we carry out of the room, together.

Thank you for being here.

Alex

Alexander Lloyd Blake
Executive/ Founding Artistic Director

Concert Program

We Tell Each Other Stories / I Am Open (from Considering Matthew Shepard)

Music by:
Craig Hella Johnson
Text by:
Craig Hella Johnson

We tell each other stories so that we will remember,

Try and find the meaning in the living of our days.

Always telling stories,

Wanting to remember

Where and whom we came from,

Who we are.

Sometimes there’s a story that’s painful to remember,

One that breaks the heart of us all.

Still we tell the story;

We’re listening and confessing

What we have forgotten

in the story of us all.

We tell each other stories so that we will remember,

Trying to find the meaning…

I am open to hear this story about a boy,

An ordinary boy,

Who never had expected his life would be this story,

(Could be any boy, any boy.)

I am open to hear a story,

I am open to hear a story,

open,

listen,

open,

listen,

all.

Gracie Laboy, soloist Kristen Simpson, accompanist

Running From, Running To: A Musical Reflection on Ahmaud Arbery

Music by:
Alexander Lloyd Blake
Text by:
Alexander Lloyd Blake

Running From, Running To: A Musical Reflection on Ahmaud Arbery

Words and Music by Alexander Lloyd Blake

I. Who Was Ahmaud

Ahmaud…

Who was Ahmaud?

Ahmaud,
who were you?

We live on with a memory

about a young man,

a Black man,

the youngest of three,

whose death

ignited a movement.

But, who were you,

who were you in life?

You were my son,

my little jokester,

My Quez,

You were so strong

in how you cared.

Treating strangers

and friends alike,

that’s who you were.

You’d never leave

without an “I love you.”

A lesson left with me.

Where was the love

shown toward my son, Ahmaud?

Where was the love?
My son, Ahmaud.

Where was the love, Ahmaud?

My Ahmaud, Ahmaud.

II. Life Defined

One dark moment won’t

shape my name,

nor will hatred be my claim.

I have loved, I’ve run, I’ve lost,

I’ve grown.

My story’s mine to shape

and mine to own.

Is life defined by the

trials we face?

Are we moments we can’t erase?

Or are we the love

that forever streams

the path we run, the light we shine,

the dreams we dream?

III. Oak and Pine Trees

The sunlight calls me.

The day has just begun.

I lace my shoes for

the race I have to run.

As I make a plan,

I paint a picture of where
I want to be.

I see the dream.

It calls to me.

To run, to reach
for what can be.

The wind, it carries

the smell of oak and pine.

The water whispers

of all that could be mine.

So my mind can fly

where feet can’t take me,

towards a better life.

I see the dream,

it calls to me

to run, to reach

for what can be.

I see a light

Beyond where I’ve ever been,

a life where I can rise

with people I love.

I’ll buy a plot of land

where my friends and I can go.

I’ll lift up my mother

and give her a better home.

It’s right in front of me.

I know it’s in front of me,

if I keep on going

I know it right there.

Right there, right there,

Mm—  Ooh— 

IV. Saltilla Shores

You looking for a private paradise,

with southern charm that’s easy

on the eyes?

All at a suitable price,

where your neighbors look safe

with a tone that feels right.

Views of the ocean

that you’ve never seen,

can keep your doors ajar

to feel the breeze.

Scenic, secluded

with pleasures you’d adore

in Saltilla Shores.

A cozy nest away from

all the crime.

An easy living that’s

so hard to find.

Fresh air will do you some good.

with a little more “neighbor,”
a little less “hood.”

The water feels like heaven

on your skin.

And hear the willows rustle

in the wind.

Nature with everything you

could want and more

in Saltilla Shores,

Saltilla Shores!

But listen close,

through the rustle of the trees,

a melody the

wind won’t carry.

Oak trees through centuries

weighed down

by secrets resembling

strange fruit.

Their roots, 

deep with blood and memory,

reveal the true foundation.

Those who aim to reside on this land

would be wise to seek out

what else lingers in Saltilla Shores.

The trees stretch to the sky,

with limbs stretched wide they offer shade.

The roots stretch down beneath and

run through graves that have no name.

The breeze so soft and cool

feels  wonderful across the skin.

The shore can calm the soul

and washes over memories.

Trees bear the weight.

Roots twist beneath.

Breeze stirs the still.

Shore swallows sound.

The trees…   The roots…
The breeze…   The shore…

V. The Incident

Who’s that?…
That Black man…

Who’s that?…
That man, that Black man.

Tall, athletic, fast, aggressive,

looks suspicious. That Black man.

Why is he jogging here? Running? Fleeing? Must be fleeing.

But, where’s he fleeing from?


That empty house around the way.

Last week they saw him looking.


Lurking. Scheming.

Lock up your doors.

Wasn’t he the one that they saw?

Bet he stole that pistol from my car.

And now he’s back and we’re not safe

as long as they’re around.

They’re always the ones.
Those people taking all our shit.

You know he’s dangerous. Probably armed.
That’s it, I’ve had it, get your gun!

Who’s that?
That Black man…

What about me is so dangerous?

Is it my skin?

The complexion I’m in?

I dress the part,

step carefully.

Twisting, bending just to align.

My mother taught:

move cautiously,

not for myself

but for your peace of mind.

I was raised to trust in humanity.

Yet warned of the fear

that you hold for me.

The stories told,

the lies engrained

turned ignorance into a loaded aim.

Will I ever just be me?

Will I feel the freedom to be?

To run, to shine, to dream, to be.

To just be me.

VI. Running From, Running To

I am enraged

when I think of Ahmaud’s last day.

(What made you act in this way?)

What made you point

a gun at a stranger?

Why wouldn’t you see him

as your neighbor?

You ran away

to a place where anger reigned.

That day Ahmaud ran, but it was you

who turned away from his humanity,

our shared humanity.

If you can’t see me in your eyes

how can I see myself in you?

But, I ran away, too.

As I’m faced with a piercing truth.

In my silence I leave values unspoken.

Inaction revealing something broken.

I chose comfort not compassion,

Afraid to fall from grace.

My standing as an ally

was a burden I couldn’t face.

I made enemies of strangers

with no thought of sympathy.

Blind to how the love I held from you

was there to set us free.

I ran away,

though it seemed so mundane.

The ways I disconnected then

now lead to deeper pain

for our humanity.


Our shared humanity.

If you can’t see me in your eyes,

how can I see myself in you?

How can I take a different view?

If we stand unafraid,

open hands, hearts unchained.

Can we find our way again?

One soul, woven in harmony.

Where healing can begin

when we don’t run away,

don’t run away.

We can’t make the same mistake.

Don’t run away,

don’t run away.

Stand in love

the hate will fade

when we don’t run away.

VII. No More

Hmm hmm hmm hmm..

How long must we watch our people die?

Another man struck down in broad daylight.

Are these modern lynchings justified?

When will we be human in your eyes?

Tell me how long must our mothers grieve.

With their children lying at your feet.

What will it take to find some empathy?

Such indifference while our bodies bleed.

Time and time again,

gave you the chance to make amends.

We can’t stand by like we have before.

We will wait no more.

No, no, no, no more!

No, no, no, no more!
No, no, no, no more!

‘Cause we’re tired, tired,

tired to the core.

Is there nothing that our laws can do?

Do they work for me

or just for you?

The D.A. works so hard to hide the truth.

Played these games

it’s time to make our move.

No more asking,

no more soft demands.

Hold our people’s future in your hands.

To this point we’ve met you decently,

but with no justice

you will find no peace!

[Shouts of protest]

Say his name!…

Say her name, say her name,

say her name, say her name!…

Say their name, say their name,

say their name, say their name!…

Say her name… Say their name…

Say his name!

Not gonna wait for you to change.

Ahmaud, we will always say your name.

We’re rising up,

we won’t be ignored.

Hear us cry no more.
No, no, no, no more!

No, no, no, no more!
No, no, no, no more!

‘Cause we’re tired, tired,

tired to the core.

Tired to the core.
Tired to the core.

VIII. Running Free

Running free.

No more fears, no more chains.


Running free,

Far away from the pain.

You are finally at peace,

your spirit at ease.

But, now I can’t help

but mourn for what should be.

As I hold you in my memories,

I know you’re holding me.

And as light as the breeze,

you’re running free.

Running free,
Even though my heart aches.

Running free, now you’re finally safe,

but I’m not sure I know

how to let go.

What I would do to hold you

oh so close.

Now I know

that it’s your time to fly.

When I look to the sky,

in my heart,

I believe you’re running free.

Carry on within us,

Staying strong within us,

You’ll live on within us, Ahmaud.

In every fight, in every prayer,

With every tear, I know

in my heart and soul,

You are there.

I see your smile,

I hear your voice.

Your love now flows through me.

My Ahmaud,

My baby boy,

Ahmaud, you’re free.

Your spirit’s free.

Rest free.

Run free,

Run free, Ahmaud.

Free, from the world

full of pain, you’ll be free.

Though you’re gone, you remain

in the depths of my heart.

Here’s where you are.

Far away, but through our love

we’re not apart.

Yes, I know that our battle is won.

I still miss you, my son.


So, as you run fast and free,

Please wait up for me.

Soloists (PRAx): Jamal Moore (Ahmaud Arbery), Caroline McKenzie (Wanda Jones-Cooper, Ahmaud's Mother), Hannah Abrahim (Protestor) • Instrumentalists: piano; violin 1; violin 2; viola; cello; bass; oboe; flute, alto flute; percussion

Performers

Soprano

  • Hannah Abrahim
  • Gabbi Coenen
  • Gracie Laboy
  • Vi Jordan

Alto

  • Evelyn Fajardo
  • Angelica Rowell
  • Miriam Adhanom
  • Stephanie Reyes

Tenor

  • David Morales
  • Isaiah Chacon
  • Jake Angel
  • Samuel Avila

Bass

  • Youngjin Kim
  • Matt Weaver
  • Ian Luna
  • Noah Jackson

Angel Blue

Jamal M. Moore

Wildup

Tonality Scholars

  • John Abrahim
  • Zander Chin
  • Raewyn Davidson
  • Sophia Hinton
  • Isabella Lopez
  • Ricky Luce
  • Ayana Manji
  • McKenzie Medland
  • Catherine Ong
  • Gianna Ortiz
  • Olivia Vielma
  • Enalei Villarubia
  • Jai Yoo
  • Mia Zwerling

Special Thanks

Board of Directors

  • Dr. Alexander Lloyd Blake, Founder / Executive and Artistic Director
  • Tayanna Todd, Secretary and Governance Chair
  • Patrick Achis
  • Eileen Engelberg
  • Kelci Hahn
  • Mark Parolisi
  • Mika Pryce
  • Julie Smith

Advisory Board

  • Branden Chapman
  • Angela Leus
  • Luke McEndarfer
  • Jen Rogers
  • Sara Scott
  • Dr. Tram Sparks
  • Joe Trapanese
  • Booker White

Honorary Board

  • Michael Abels
  • Shoshana Bean
  • Kris Bowers
  • Nikky Finney
  • Scott Hoying
  • Kevin Olusola

Acknowledgments

2025-2026 Supporters for Tonality

  • California Arts Council
  • Music Man Foundation
  • Pasadena Showcase House for the Arts
  • Jewish Community Foundation of Los Angeles
  • Los Angeles County Department of Arts and Culture
  • Supervisor Lindsey P. Horvath, Third District, County of Los Angeles

Support Affiliated Non-Profits

Ahmaud Arbery Foundation

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Kindly help us to spread the word to others who care about valuing social justice in our society.

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