Shelby Greene - Dead Men

The palms of my hands were slick,

the dirt compacted beneath my nails.

My furrowed brow carried the smear of my efforts,

much louder than I carried my pain.

Nearly consumed by digging graves

for all the versions of me you killed.

Their voices you ended.

The many women I laid to rest for you.

I begged you to sow seeds instead.

So the soil on my hands was that of growth and life.

But dead things don't sow, and dead men don't plant

gardens.

From the Press:

Shelby Greene's work doesn't ask for permission, it arrives with flames beneath it's feet and ash on its tongue. Dead Men gives readers a preview of her collection As Ashes Fall, where she writes from the scorched center of survival. There isn't anything ornamental in her lines; you can tell that they are built from bone and the hard-earned light of having made it through a dark time.

This is poetry. This is record.

Her voice carries the weight of experience, but does not stay silent in it. She rebuilds and offers space for others to do the same. Whether through her community at The Red Collective or the pages she fills, Shelby reminds us that rising after being ruined isn't a metaphor, it's a lived act.

About the Author:

Shelby Greene is a writer, mother of 5, and survivor whose debut book As Ashes Fall weaves spoken word poetry with raw personal reflection.

With deep roots in storytelling and healing, Shelby brings her lived experience to the page in a voice that is both gritty and redemptive.

She is the founder of The Red Collective, a growing community space for survivors, where she is developing healing journals, digital resources, and future works that honor the journey of rising after ruin.

Where to Find:

Instagram: @shelby.greene
Community Instagram: @theredcollective.bookshelf
Facebook Page: The Red Collective
Private Facebook Community: The Red Collective (Community)

Website coming soon.