Wake Up!

Mira Black • October 27, 2026

Logan Crane Nov 204-899-3921-May30th 2024

MAY 2025

I went to the river where you drown my love and though it took me hours and I needed help from Tobi, I finally released your ashes into the water. I begged the sky to tell me why I was being punished to cruely and of the mistake! I never consented to this death, to finding my greatest love to only to loose him so soon. Why? Because you promised, you whispered in my right ear and I raged. No. I would never agree, there is no Soul contract that would be so cruel. No my love, you said. You promised to love no matter what. And just then the darkness let me go. Let me live. Yes, of course my Soul would agree and I do. After a year of begging reality to take it back or let me die, I felt my life arrive again. Not where I left it but some brand new crossroads simmered in front of me. I agree. Just then a magpie landed next to me and I heard you ask me not to forget you which made me laugh out loud I was nearly giddy and I didn't recognize the sound of my own delight. Before the vibration disipated a thrilling powerful energy rose up from my root through my spine and out the top of my head then across the sky behind me, "And you did." I heard what I can only call the voice of God. "You did love, all of them. All the men who tried to break you, you loved no matter what. You don't have to do that anymore."

APRIL 2025

I went to The Keg for my birthday and told the waiter all about you. They give birthday girls free cake and so I told them that I don't eat cake but that you and I use to come in so I could give you my birthday cake and how I loved to watch your enjoy it. so I asked if I could give it to somone in the room on your behalf. The waiter told me there was an old man who'd come in without spouse to grieve his beloved dog who'd had to put down today. He ate your cake my love. And I smiled, a little.

MARCH 2025

I sang for some sisters. 2 songs. I never thought I'd sing again and though it hurt, I did it. That's something...

FEBRUARY 2025

Fuck you Valentine's Day. I hate you more than I can say.

JANUARY 2025

Tonight is our 'fucking aniversary' and I can smell you sitting next to me. Memories of our first night together, New Years Eve, cuts me through. My friends have stopped calling or if they do they shame me for my pain. I am alone.

DECEMBER 2024

I've been hording pain meds. But I told my mother and she asked me a question that has kept me alive. So far. "How do you know, for 100% certain, that suicide will be better". I still haven't been able to answer. But I'm trying hard to find out.

NOVEMBER 2024

Today is your birthday. I can't breath. I tried a ritual in the park to let you go to the light, throwing dried flowers from your funeral into the wind and wishing you peace and joy and telling you I'd be okay if even if you stopped haunting me here on this horrible life without your hand clutching mine. Weeping but committed to "letting you go" like everyone tells me I should, I turned back towards the place I found to live after ours died and I felt you right there where your spirit floats, to the right and just behind, you smilled that sardonic smile and asked, "Where am I gonna go without you my love?" and then you walked me home and watched a movie.

OCTOBER 2024

I am no longer human. Birds follow me and speak to me of God. People turn away from this gaze that sees their pain and opens the conduit between what they thought they knew and what death can do. I can still hear that girl I was weeping, grieving, raging but she is no longer me. And I do not care to be her anymore. She sickens me, that love lost romantic fool, beliving that her King would resuce her. Only in this liminal space, where she has died with her beloved, am I allowed to live.

SEPTEMBER 2024

I texted your cell in some hazy despiration to feel the feel I felt when you were still here. Every single unkind word I ever said bites me like a dragon. I need you to forgive but that's not what I ask. I want to know where you've gone but this is not the task at hand. I text you simply, "Come home." and weep until I fall asleep and dream and shake myself awake just to feel the moment, the milisecond when I wake before I remember you're dead.

AUGUST 2024

I heard you last night, arrive on the other side of the bathroom door. Frozen between death and morning I do not know what is true anymore but as I smash my head against the wall on your side of the bed, iching from the shards of shavings when I sheered my curls with your razor. Nobody understands what happened to shiny couple next door, replaced with the sounds of some suffering animal screaming without end. And yet. I will not let my ego kill this soul before I really know what I'm here for, and why God chose to punish me.

DEVILS GAME

JULY 23RD 2024

Comes a time when pain is the best conduit to be with you again. Since there’s no guarantee my end would place me in your arms, I flagellate to keep me in the loop and then beg for forgiveness which connects me to you like pressure connects coal to a gem.

I talk to you every day willing your love to stay but Your lack of reply stutters in the asking, leaving the conversation nauseously open without the salve of goodbye.

32 days and what feels like a thousand vacant midnights open the door between my heart and your cremation ashes sitting on the floor.

It is there in that macabre fire

my love still burns.

I hide

reminded that it’s the heights of adoration which equal the depths of loss so in a way I asked for this.

The taunting now begs off and pleads with my heart not to do it again.

Tribunals of woman hold me as this animal lay screaming pleading disbelief choking in strife. They ask me for nothing in return except the one thing I can’t promise;

Life.

I’m told God loves the sinners and exalts the wounded meek, loving me and all I see through everyone I meet. Masters showing up on every grain of sand and mountain peek preaching each one of us give away the love we dearly seek.

I have loved so deep along the way and see God in each others eyes. Is there a balancing on the record books where my withholding feeds the lies and rewrites all the future plans made from my next demise?

Might I live out my crone age unhindered by this open hearts belief which served me up to the devils game

everybody’s calling greif?

Did I do this to myself and how do I repent? The tiny killing cuts via floodgates stuffed of fantasies were meant for that little girls craving intimate love only found refracted through the eyes of the Divine. This longing takes a toll when I can’t find it in myself and starts another yearning for the silence found in my dead lovers eyes.

~Mira

JUNE 15TH 2024

ME WANTING

They called it the “waves” of grief, but they are wrong though the ocean may yet come to drown me.

For now these wicked winds winde around my life like a tornado. Tearing off skin in small pieces, tattering around the mess you left of our picture still sitting on my bedroom table in such a wondrous frame.

My mind spinning around the inside of a land slide, trying to find the ground without avail. My heart seeping, bloody, pleading to every single God to let you come home and

this time

This time id remember to say,

“I love you”

the bargaining futile.

And at the heart of this fiery storm, my consciousness rewired for the dark spaces heavy without you.

These once powerful arms holding tightly to the rims of this spinning wreckage, hoping for salvation for light grows tired and me wanting

nothing

wanting nothing

Me wanting nothing

but to hold you one more time.

~ Mira

Rest in peace my Love

JULY 22ND 2024

IT'S NOT

It’s not the grandiosity remembered

now that your gone. No big ticket New Year’s Eve date nights come and gone.

Not even the brightly coloured gifts that took you weeks to make

though my heart still aches

hoping I told you enough how much I adored it.

It’s the tiny moments that came and went every single day. My cheek on your back as you did the dishes. The blessings before dinner and Sunday morning kisses.

It’s that time you lost so badly at cards you threw yours across the room and I tried so hard

not to laugh.

Each time you saw me naked and chased me around the house, never letting me out of your sight. The way you spooned me watching movies even after a fight.

I wallow here in the insanity staring at the stack of colour copied death certificates sitting on your side of the table and scream at Life to take it back as though my pain would change the gamble.

This isn’t even a poem

nothing polished or gotten right.

This is just my habit of sending you my words even on the darkest of nights.

~Mira

JUNE 2024

FALLING DOWN

I keep falling down between the waves of moments filling up the space between who I am now and who I was as you lived inside my life.

My hands blinding, scratching the ground longing for my nails to reach into something solid finding only the black ooze of greif.

How dare that tiny word come across these lips cracked and burning from the wailing breaking my chest as though those five letters could hold the places now battered by the nightmare defiling the empty side of my bed where I still smell Your skin.

I’m bruised by book bound teachings sent to impress, platitudes spat across a room hours after God took you. And I get the warriors hearts which wish me well, asking me to rise and let go, to surrender and know you don’t suffer. Be grateful for the love some never feel and honour the connection we shared as it cuts me in two over and over and over. Not evening has a silver lining. That’s a lie we want to be true but not everything happens for a reason and just hurt beyond comprehension.

Please feel better, we need you they say. Don’t let the tears desolve your impenetrable Being. Turn your face towards a sun which rudely shines on this widows veil, its grey body nauseous and gross in the longing to hear you singing gently in my ear

just

once

more.

So I seek hollowed ground because they told me I should then face moldy dreams and scrape them in the trash to force the billowing darkness under my pillow so maybe no one else will suffer the way we suffered, my love, from these broken, broken hearts.

~Mira

JUNE 2024

Feeling lost and unable to hold onto life affirming thoughts. This sudden devastation of losing my best friend and fiancé has cut something out of me. I feel an evil in my energy field. No capacity to face the guarantees of life’s suffering.

Today I read this share below and am re-sharing to create life affirming connections. I am fighting the darkness. Embracing a ghost who calls me back to life from his death. I do not know if this is insanity or awakening but it is certainly burning me into something I do not recogize. Please know I read your posts though not able to reply.

They do help.

~Mira

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WAKE UP

By Mira Black • August 30, 2026

Wake up, you slumbering Life. You have grown too familiar with the lie that keeps you fed but never nourished. Too comfortable inside the status quo, that well-decorated room where nothing grows but everyone says, isn’t this enough? Wake up like the first time your lover smiles and something secret begins to unfold between my words and your hidden place. Once I have tasted the sound of your voice between my lips, it is almost as if Life itself might finally kiss me. Make a wish of me. Make a choice. Make a move. Say my name like you mean it and prove me wrong for believing I am unlovable, as if you could. As if Love would ever agree to become a witness against me. Still, this mind screams inside the body, pulling thought from thought, knot from knot, trying to solve the ache with another plan. Caught in the old mistake: confusing the chase for happiness with the courage to be alive. Empty hands reach for the sky, but the sky does not explain itself. Morning comes. Your eyes doubt. Your body knows. And there it is, the bloody contrast between who you are, what you want, and the life you keep pretending is close enough. At least your feet still tell the truth. One step. Then the staggering next. This is how waking comes. Not as a choir. Not as lightning. Not as someone finally choosing you. But as the unbearable mercy of seeing clearly what you can no longer betray. The pulse runs wild. The teeth rattle. The skin rises. The muscles strain against all the silence you trained them to carry. Hold on to the procession that pulled you from the soft grave of almost enough. Do not mistake the dream for freedom. Do not mistake the familiar for home. Do not mistake being wanted for being known. Listen. The song in your head hurts because it is true. And all you know for certain is this: you have not been honest in far too long. So wake up, you slumbering Life. Wake up before the lie learns your voice and starts calling itself Love. ~ MIRA

Loving Attention

By Mira Black • July 2, 2026

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

Me Wanting

By Mira Black • June 12, 2026

Dedicated to a beautiful Soul walking beside me from across the veil.

Touched Everywhere

By Mira Black • June 12, 2026

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

To Love.

By Mira Black • June 12, 2026

#griefjourney

Do You Hear God?

By Mira Black • June 12, 2026

Do you ever hear God? I mean truly hear the voice of silence louder than the ruckus across the street. Like thunder Like proof Like God is simply sitting next to you? Do you ever hear God whispering more loudly than the storm? Sometimes the depth of love inside your own heart shining, breaking opening, folding, smashing, like a lake against the rocks under the full moon torrents days before the rain? Do you ever hear God say your name? Not the one you were born with, nor the one your parents claimed. The other one. The secret one. The name only your Soul remembers when the world stops. Please tell me when you notice magic rising suddenly to kiss you for no reason except that you are here. I used to hear God. I used to feel warmth gather around me like I was the most cherished daughter, swimming in clear water, certain of the song singing to the wind. I used to know the words by heart. When magpies landed at my door, I knew they were for me. A certain melody mystical messengers made for me from my Beloved. I knew the veil was thin enough to let the dead kiss me sometimes. I knew the world was speaking in riddles and rhymes I could understand. Some call darkness failure demanding light when I am also mud, blood, hunger, river, ash, and a new moon sky. I have listened too long to people who fight over God as if God is a house only they can afford. And when I ask them about God, they laugh like I have said something only children do. When I ask them about God, they turn away afraid of demons, while I burst into a million pieces of light, realizing I’d been listening to God all along. ~ MIRA

When the Bird Bowed

By Mira Black • May 3, 2026

I am ready to loosen my grip on the illusions I carried though these arms grew strong dragging every fear that named itself love Still something ancient calls me to make room for the tools a crone requires She asks me to set down that carbon-copy collection of who I was supposed to marry refuse the costumes I was taught to tally seductress saviour silenced witness whore the scorned woman still sharpening her sword against herself But these hands now forged through fire and blood hold a softer thing a soul stitched from silk and mud called from dark rooms where grief learned how to sing Still the maiden asks why this path chose her the mother bleeds without a child to name the longing woman still trembles at the rescuers song But no one is coming now and strangely that truth has become holy because the story keeps unfolding beyond romance beyond survival into something vast enough to hold all of me Last night I dreamt in full colour birds everywhere winged messengers crossing impossible skies gone were the men who betrayed me gone were the women who vanished when I needed them most I stood alone among rot ruin and medicine Then the great white bird came massive silent radiant it stepped toward me without fear as if it already knew me You are free it said without speaking You are clean You are ready And then the bird bowed slowly deliberately to me My body filled with tears old instinct reached outward searching for someone to witness this holiness but something wiser returned me to the feathers to the moment I fell to my knees not in shame in recognition And the great bird still bowing gave its final breath as though surrender itself had come to feed me and suddenly I understood some things must die so the soul can start kneeling before its own Mastery -MIRA

Lost & Found

By Mira Black • June 7, 2025

It's always been a lot of work to be me. To carry the terrified little girl inside my head who still will not listen to a word I have said. A vigilant, visceral witness holding on to every bit of business this chaos called Life has handed her. Forgiving broken men. Taking the blame for the ways they came to abuse her. This morning, while storming the terrible castle I built for her, I noticed something new. I noticed how easily I pet the demons drawn to my lap, how tenderly I feed them, even after they attack and leave me bleeding on whatever floor they abandon me on. The same floor I swept every day, mopping up the footprints of my father muddying the face of my lover. Forgetting I was never meant to save any of them. Today, I gave back the guilt I swallowed. I told that little girl she was done holding on to that evil. I got this, I told her, and knew it was Truth. For the first time, she believed in the proof of my presence. You do not have to fight for love anymore. Let go of the fever forged in the darkness, the one that left you alone as if your only choice was to be used for your magic until your witchery dried up with nothing left for you. Stop hurting yourself for a muse. I found you, dear one. Fifty years following crumbs from the table of Love, calling it enough when it never was, and here you are, still alive inside me. Nothing broken. Only buried. Nothing taken. Only carried for far too long. Set down the old idea that you do not belong. I am here, my love, my daughter, my best friend, my song. Turn away from the lie that you are lost and alone. I Am here. ~ MIRA