Author: Ryan Lugalia Hollon

Let This Be the Sunday

Let this Be the Sunday                                                                Let this be the Sunday when bigotry ends, Let this be the Sunday when new dawns begin, Let this be the Sunday when white hoods burn, Let this be the Sunday when ancestors yearning For justice find their joy   When every person – Girl or boy Cis or trans Look around and sees God’s hand Sees all the hues For what they...

Read More

Fresh Start

It is over.  Your game playing & avoidance tactics. Our industrial charades & pretenses at supremacy.  The earth is returning. Teaching us her slow  but unstoppable ways. One melted glacier at a time.  We are left googling —  “How to create a new world?” As the oceans fill our living...

Read More

Forgotten. Never gone. Just forgotten.

An abandoned schoolhouse. Bricks made of eternal fire. Surrounded by sidewalks serene, though far too silent. Nearby elms watch in witness, impotent guardians, but lovely still. Upon entering the steel doors of time, I hear the echoes of children, long since gone. Their multitude of lessons – learned and unlearned – permeate empty halls. Behind each door, the discarded sanctuaries of teachers. What if our souls merged with theirs every time we read a book, or raised a question, or rose above our own foolishness? I stand now, at the front of a classroom. Millennia of educators course through my veins. A...

Read More

How To Miss The Boat

instruction one:  believe the earth rises when you rise sleeps when you sleep cries when you cry cares when you care, all moving at the speed of you.   instruction two: act indignant at the first sign that ‘instruction one’ may be false. promptly remind yourself – you are the controller of traffic and tornadoes, commanding conformity with even your smallest needs.   final instruction: continuing bending wills of nature and civilization, even if all hell breaks loose. when farmers demand payment for their goods or squirrels refuse to share their winter storehouses, when grocery store aisles present themselves...

Read More

White Man Witnessing

This poem inspired by the Movement for Black Lives., At it’s core, it is a conversation with myself, amidst all the truth, learning, and power that is coming to light…   Can you see the genocide? the fault of all who stay inside? Prophets spoke well when they saw the end; long standing lies must break, not bend. New world delivered opposite riot gear, faith reborn while facing fear. Justice no longer disguised as blind, returns our stare reads our mind: She sees all we have and haven’t done slavery un amended whips turned to guns; Boldly her judgment...

Read More

Subscribe To Our Newsletter

Join our mailing list to receive the latest news and updates from our team.

You have Successfully Subscribed!