Ashes to wings

A story about fire and flight

By Karina RasberryPublished 5 years ago • 1 min read

I don’t smoke cigarettes but ashes consume me.

Something about them indicates that a Phoenix may rise so I always find us locking eyes

I feel the beauty in the burn

They said I’d never learn,

“you can’t touch fire.”

One of the many lessons proved impossible to hardwire

This pile of dust confronts me

We are under no illusions,

it says it to my face

All of the ugliness I wish to erase

I’m the aftermath of an earthquake

Someone’s quick fix

They disregarded me like the end of a cigarette

I was taught to be careful where you ash

That fire could come back

Blazing and raging at your mistake

What Mother Nature gives it can take

With wings singed in regeneration

A new being resurrects without hesitation

I don’t smoke luckies

I feel lucky today

Seeing that rebirth is always,

only a few steps away

stay open — be brave — write it all out

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