Rear View

Mira Black • August 10, 2023

When I was a kid, the fat, roly-poly, insecure kid in class who was always picked last, I wanted a dancers body. Sleek, lean, strong, proud.

But now I can see those women who fought for their dreams of dance, nurturing their broken toes and battered knees, bounded breasts, made to stay skinny. I hear the ache in their bones, unwound, *what could have been?* bursting at the seams of best intentions.

When I was 20 there were these flirty, confident girlies, dancing on stages that terrified me. And speaking their experience so deeply, eloquently, that I longed to know their pain just so maybe I'd weight in the same rank as they. I got sick with envy. 

Then my 30’s noticed these soul sisters, longing to be misters, who came to feel the world in their fingertips and notice every movement like nobody was watching. Telling the Truth a mortal fear but doing it anyway. They had to. I wanted to be different just like them. They might have understood the crazy that boiled inside me. But now I see the struggle, the beatings the political muddle, their fight in the muggle mortal world rejected where I stand so comfortably cis.

When I turned 40 I wanted to find myself in the body of a younger girl. I’d give anything in the world for the skin in their prime. Unencombered by time. So much left ahead. The freedom to redefine again and again. The freedom to change their mind. Change the bed they'd made. 

But now in my 50's I long for the wisdom of my elders. The freedom of those sisters who show me compassion for my angst in the chaos of a wild woman. They know the shadows that show up in the fires of menopause, understanding the hights of the mystic in the knowing of who they are really are.

I think my 60s will show me a path of God so bright it could shine through the dark to all the little girls who don’t know their own beautiful, powerful beating heart .

Love

Mira



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I spent years trying to outrun the darkness. As though healing were a race. Then one ordinary morning I noticed my attention. How it kept returning to the same abandoned house. The same hand unwound from mine. Naked intimacies with fire, ignoring the burn. As though love were something I had to earn. The same cup where your lips last touched it. The same wound begging to become my only religion. No one told me then I was never responsible for the darkness laid upon me. Only for the quiet miracle as my attention remembers to love me as I am. Not to force. Not to run. Just... stay. The kind that sits beside the dark without becoming it. The kind that remembers there is more sky than storm. The kind that notices a bird improvising her song even while the heart is still breaking.  Perhaps awakening is nothing more mysterious than this. Love looking so gently at suffering until suffering forgets to follow me home. ~MIRA
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Do not call me unattached because I have learned not to beg at every closing door. This heart has not become clean. It has become weathered. There are names I no longer say out loud that still change the temperature of my body. There are hands I have released that still arrive in dreams as if the soul keeps its own appointment book. I know how to pray without building a prison around the Beloved. I know how to open and still let the river move on. This did not come from holiness. It came from loss. From repetition. From standing in the aftermath with my nervous system on fire like a city skyline bright with lightning I have mistaken longing for prophecy. I have called absence care. I have watched my body reach for what my spirit had already surrendered. So no, I am not untouched. I am touched everywhere. By grief. By beauty. By the unbearable intimacy of being human with no guarantee that love will stay where I place it. Still, I refuse the immaculate heart. Let me be marked. Let tenderness leave evidence. Let love ruin the small false self that thought safety meant never opening again. At three in the morning when memory walks through me wearing someone else’s voice, I do not call it weakness. I call it proof. Something entered. Something mattered. Something sacred found a door in me and left it open. ~MIRA #brave #canadian #poet
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