Wind lifting feathers


book pages on the side

of the road flutter like

the wind lifting the

feathers of a dead bird,

I pass by and mourn both.


I pass the river where the

snapping turtle lives and

wonder how she fares

and if she will wander

again come spring in

her larger than life

shell across the road.


Who encourages the

encouragers? Cares

for the ones who give

care? Who holds up

those who hold us

up? How can we

say we didn’t know?


Birds sit hopeful

on last year’s

bowed sunflower

heads. Soon my

feathered friends.



It is Open Link Night for dVerse Poets Pub. There are some great poems already going live on blogs from all over. Stop by, read some poetry and leave some love. Share your own, it’s open to all poets! 

Today I am musing about things I saw on my drive yesterday, and the memories certain places bring up. Some are short enough to be #micropoetry and others not quite.

Remain calm



Remain calm. The best advice.

Life is fragile. Handle with prayer.

Dancing on the edge of panic.

And a stillness holds me back.

Be still. Be still. Breathe. In. Out.

Running in place doesn’t make miles.

It’s a fast getaway on a rocking horse.

Feed goes in poop comes out.

Life is what goes in during the between.

Mind, body, spirit. Praying. Hoping.

Knowing what has to be done,

just not knowing how to the when.

Wishing I could sleep in the sun

with the cats and the dogs instead.

Hunting down elusive things and

doing work. Wondering at the

view ahead. Snowy roads.

Rainy days. Stormy maybe.

One step. Just one. Left or right?

God doesn’t count the steps

forward or back, He sees the heart.

He counts the tears. Not the fears.

He counts the scars that tell

we survived another bout.

He steps in His own time.

We walk, humbly at best,

and often kicking, screaming

being dragged by our stubborn

hands, heels dug in holding on.

I want place of ‘okay’ because

I know it. I don’t want the risk.

The unknown can be amazing.

But it is unknown and therefore

we are taught to fear it. Only the

reckless or crazy seek it wildly.

We leave limbo behind, boldly.

Dancing down an ice covered

highway, left or right turn?

Go. Just go. Get going.

Remain calm. Be still.

God’s got this. Breathe.

Live. Love. Laugh.

Pray. Pray first. Pray.

Prayer is


He spat a tobacco plug.

Prayin’ oughta be done first girl.

No sense askin’ for savin’ in a hurricane.

I nod. Listening. Knowing more was to come.

Pick yer horse. Saddle up. Give God the reins.

You gotta ride with God, prayerin first, not last.

He nods at a wild mare, she comes running but dashes away.

She’s got the devil in her. Praying won’t save ya from a wreck.

Prayer woulda told ya to ride the sorrel tho, she’s steady and true.

How often, do we grab the pretty bronc, saddle up and pray as we fly?

Gettin’ bucked off don’t mean the end, but why pray after the ground hits?

Prayin is first thing ya do before yer eyes open, an at the last as they close.

Be thankful for whatcha have, whatcha missed and what makes ya stronger.

Even a quiet horse will hop ya around, but that makes ya a better horseman.

I rub the ears of a sweet old mare, kid’s horse, and give her a treat. I nod. I hear.


 for Open Link Night

Sunday Psalm

Bloody linens drape on cold stone.

Angels break into holy grins.

He is risen! He is risen!

Women go to the tomb mouring.

They leave dancing in joy.

He is risen! He is risen!

Unbelieving Disciples tremble.

They long to touch Him.

He is risen! He is risen!

The hope of the world arose.

Death defeated forever.

He is risen! He is risen!

Creation dances every spring.

Remembering this holy day.

He is risen! He is risen!


Did you touch His side? 

Did you probe His hands?

Were you blessed by seeing

or by believing in your heart?

Did you touch the stone?

Still warm from Heaven’s hand.

Were you blessed by seeing

or by walking in the empty tomb?

Did you long for the sound?

Angels laughing from heaven!

You are blessed! You are blessed!

He loves us. He loves us.

Easter Sunday, attempt at the With Real Toads prompt.  Have a blessed day!


The song asks, “Where do we go from here?”

The earth moved, shifted

along a fault line

no one knew

was there



The world changed in an instant a few words long.

Nothing looks the same anymore,

some things are more right

and others seem

so very very

wrong to



They say you never see it coming, and then it is there.

The event that makes  you either rebuild

or leave it all behind and start new.

But what if you could

do both things

leave and



Still shaken, it could take days or weeks to get solid ground

once again under these trembling legs and feet.

Feeling sodden with a weight of tears

not knowing if it is cleaner

or just seems more

clear than

it was



No words can quite describe, although some come close,

the moment when you understand nothing

oh nothing can ever, ever be the

same again for you

for them,



Picking up the pieces, starting something new from the rubble.

It is hard to decide what is worth fixing,

and what is really so much trash.

Where is the foundation

when you can only

see the fallen

stones of an



Pick away. Pick away. One stone. One brick. One log at a time.

Baby steps, big steps, backwards steps – here we go!

Falling, rising, falling again, laying there

sopping wet with tears that burn

down my face wondering

if I have the courage

the strength or

the faith to

keep on



I’m stupid that way though, Patron Saint of Lost Causes.

So I keep on keeping on, praying, loving, walking.

Each one takes me where God only knows.

And where God knows what

both they and I need

most of all and

that is just



Ever been through this kind of physical or emotional or spiritual or all three?  This is my earthquake. Thanks for reading.

Copyright 2012 Shanyn Silinski