Five of Cups

Grieve
by F. E. Clark | September 26, 2020

when the ache of it all
pits a gravestone
in the cavern of your heart,
and your eyes turn inward
with tears that burn like
ice through you

when all that you are
is a howling, frozen,
stalactite statue
of paralysis, and your
lost gone soul has walked
too far alone

remember, then,
to raise your eyes skyward
and out to the river that flows.
seek the bridge and the path
and remember your own power
to call your spirit back.


F. E. Clark (she/her) lives in Scotland. She writes, paints, and takes photographs — inspired by nature in all its forms. A Pushcart, Best of the Net, and Best Small Fictions nominee, her poetry, flash-fiction, and short stories can be found in anthologies and literary magazines.