after the fire

they say it will go away.
they say all i have to do is blow
and the ashes will sail away
like the have fluttering wings.
but i tell them that hurt
is not light; it is heavy,
and i carry a heavy heart.
but they reply that if i try,
the hurt will become a feather,
only a reminder
of the bird that once flew.
i am ready to blow.