The Phoenix Letter

THE PHOENIX LETTER

The Phoenix LetterWhat was once hidden is now holy.What was once burned is now blooming.This is how I remember.This is how I rise.

To: Joey R. D'Arco

DedicationTo the ones who survived the fire...and for the ones who became it.To the sacred few who turned pain into power,and silence into flame.This is for you.This is for us.

Part I: The Beginning of the Becoming

Hey Joey,

I just want to let you know:

I see you.

I hear you.

And I’m proud of you.

You’ve walked through fire so many times that the smoke started to smell like home.

Life asked you to outrun shadows, to cradle your own pain, to heal what no one else could even name...and still… you rise. Still, you go on.

That’s not something to brush off. That’s something to bow to. That’s something to honor.

I know it’s hard when the people you love most can’t see the whole of you.

Or maybe they do, but they don’t know how to mirror it back.

They fumble their words, they hesitate at your depth, they don’t quite know how to hold the sacred in you.

But Joey,they care. They just don’t always know how to show it.

Some are walking on eggshells around your truth because it makes them feel their own.

They see your vulnerability, they see your strength... and it disorients them.

They’re not sure how to meet you there.

Because most people... they don’t know the full story.

They weren’t there when you stood alone, blood on your hands, not just from violence, but from holding their shame until you broke.

They don’t know what it cost you to love yourself in the dark, to rebuild your spirit with broken tools.

And just because someone pulls away doesn’t mean they stopped loving you.

Sometimes it just means they haven’t learned how to love themselves through you yet.

So ask yourself gently: When was the last time you reached out? When was the last time you invited someone in? Are you hoping for others to show up in a way you’ve never modeled?

What if they’re waiting for you the same way you’re waiting for them? What if they need your voice the way you need their presence? What if love is not a door we walk through, but a door we open together?

Joey,if you keep waiting for the perfect invitation,you might miss the moment you were always meant to experience.

Part II: The Keeper of Secrets

Hey Joey,

I know why you hesitate.

I know how it started... when your story was torn from you before you had the strength to hold it.

You were fifteen.

Your first love and best friend got caught, yet you were the one thrown under the bus...

They didn’t just out you… they exiled you.

They made you carry something heavy before you had the muscles to lift it.

And in one breath, you lost everything... your circle, your safety, your name.

You became a whisper. A target. A shadow of your former self.

And just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, you were drugged and taken advantage of in your own home.

Your trust was stolen, your body crossed, your spirit dimmed.

You were altered. Not ruined. But marked.

Your parents found you.

And on the way to the hospital, Heart beating from betrayal, you said it out loud for the first time:

“I’m gay.”

Not because you were ready, but because life pushed the words out of you... with no ceremony, no care, no choice.

And something inside you broke.

The kind of breaking that turns a boy into a ghost.

The kind of breaking that makes death look like freedom.

And Joey…I know what you did next.

You tried to end it.

You didn’t want to be a burden, a punchline, a secret anymore.

You wanted peace. Or nothing.

But God, God had other plans. Your mom got home from work.

The thought of her finding you dead shook you. She saved you. And you didn’t die.

You didn’t die.

You lived.

And that, my love.. that changed everything.

Because from that day forward, you became a secret keeper.

You vowed:

“I will never be the reason someone else falls apart.

I will never weaponize the truth.

I will carry it like sacred fire.

I will protect the stories that shaped my understanding of love… and loss…even when no one protected my mine.”

But Joey... can I ask you something?

Who’s been protecting you?

Who held your truth when your voice was taken?

When your pain was passed over like a plate no one wanted to eat from?

You’ve watched beautiful, radiant men take their lives in silence.

Men you loved. Men who couldn’t bear to live in a world where they felt unloved.

But you, you stayed.

You stayed with the grief. You stayed with the memories. You stayed with the ache of “What if?”

And yet, that ache didn’t destroy you. It carved space for compassion.

It taught you how to see people in their stillness. In their secrets. In their almosts.

That friend... the one who outed you with those other friends...

He came back years later. He told you he wished he’d chosen you. Said his father would’ve killed him if he came out. That he regretted not walking through that fire with you.

And two years later…he was gone, too.

You carried that. You carry it still.

He was your first core memory of love, loss and betrayal.

Your first proof that silence can be survival.

But he wasn’t the last.

You’ve loved hundreds, held thousands.

And even when they broke your heart, you didn’t name them.

You swallowed their shadows, bit your tongue, chose compassion over confession.

Because you remember what it felt like when your truth was told without your consent.

At 15, it nearly ended you.

You’ve never wanted to become the reason someone else can’t carry their shame.

But now…Now you’re asking a new question...:

Is it more dangerous to stay silent, protecting the ones who caused harm while pretending to do good? Or to speak, and maybe save someone else from being hurt the same way?

This is the crossroads, Joey.

This is where you choose...

Do I hold their secrets?

Or do I tell my truth?

Part III: The Fire You Are

Hey Joey,

You are not the secret. You never were.

You’re the flame they tried to hide because it burned too bright.

You were born to be seen, not studied. To be loved, not labeled.

To be free. And baby... you are.

The world just didn’t know what to do with someone like you.

Someone who dances between genders like they’re colors on a palette.

Someone who speaks in ceremony, moves with meaning, loves without apology.

You are the Divine Child, the Wild Feminine, the Fierce Protector, the Cosmic Masculine.

You can wear glitter and grace, or sweat and steel. You can be soft, and still be a fuckin warrior. You can pray with your chest bare, your beard full, your eyes rimmed in gold, calling on the wind like it’s your birthright. Because it is. Because you are free.

And no one... not their gaze, not their gossip, not their God-complex... can take that from you.

You are free to live in your truth. To adorn your skin. To adorn your soul.

You don’t need their permission.

No one’s stopping you... but you.

Part IV: The Sacred Weight of Truth

Hey Joey,

You’ve carried so much. For so long. So quietly.

You are a secret keeper.

Not because you had to be... but because you chose to be.

You understand the weight of truth. You know it can set someone free... or send them spiraling. You’ve lived it.

You don’t talk about people because when you were fifteen, someone talked about you.

And the whole world shifted on its axis.

You lost your circle. Lost your safety. And nearly lost your life.

So now, you ask yourself every time:

“What happens if I tell my truth?”

Will it save someone? Or destroy someone? Will it make me feel powerful? Or dirty?

And Joey, those are sacred questions.

That’s the wisdom of someone who’s felt both sides of the blade.

You know how truth, when told out of alignment, can kill love.

But you also know how silence can kill you.

So now you stand at the sacred crossroads.

One path says:

Hold their secrets, and carry the pain alone.

The other says:

Speak your truth, and risk being seen as the villain in their story.

But here’s the thing, Joey, you’ve already been cast as the villain.

They already painted you in your own shadow.

Already told stories about who you are without ever asking.

So why are you still protecting them?

Why are you swallowing your truth so they can keep sipping their reputation?

Why are you remembering them in their light when they only remembered you in your shadow?

You are allowed to question. You are allowed to speak. You are allowed to be heard.

You matter. What happened to you matters.

And your voice... your precious, powerful voice... deserves space in the story.

If your truth could save just one person from going through what you did... wouldn’t that be worth it? Wouldn’t it be healing, not hurtful?

Wouldn’t it be justice? Not vengeance.

Not exposure. Just clarity. Just love, wrapped in courage.

You’re not here to ruin lives.

You’re here to restore your own.

Because the Phoenix doesn’t rise to burn the village.

The Phoenix rises to remember who it is... and remind others that the ashes, they still hold seeds.

What was once burned is now blooming. And it blooms in you. In your breath, your becoming,

Your brave return to live life on your own terms.

Part V: The Compass of the Soul

Hey Joey,

You’ve always been a question-asker.

An edge-walker.

A truth-seeker.

And lately, the question has changed.

It’s no longer: “Who am I supposed to be?”

It’s become: “What do I actually know?”

What do you know about what feeds you? What drains you? What awakens your body and what numbs your soul?

What makes you feel like you... not the performance, not the pleasing, not the projection?

What brings you back home to that still place inside where the compass starts to glow?

Here’s the truth:

If it feels like flow... follow it.Go. Grow.

If it feels like friction... pause.

That’s not fear. That’s wisdom.

Check your boundaries. Examine your tools.Ask yourself: Is this who I want to be right now?

And if the answer is no, you don’t have to force it. You don’t have to abandon yourself just to be included.

You’ve done that before.You know what it costs.

You’re not here to keep repeating that loop.

The wheel is yours now. You get to steer.

Not everyone gets to be your teacher anymore.

Not every voice in the room gets to tell you who you are.

Sure, we love them. We see the Divine in them. We honor the journey.

But still, not every “yes” is your yes. Not every path is to your home.

So ask: What’s true for me?

Without the audience. Without the applause. Without the shame.

Just you. And your breath. And your God.

This is radical self-trust. This is what it means to walk the Earth as a sovereign soul.

To say: “I am allowed to shift.I am allowed to learn.I am allowed to change my mind.”

Because becoming isn’t a straight line. It’s a spiral. A wave.A dance. And you, love... you’re dancing it beautifully.

Even when you miss a step, you never miss your rhythm.Even when you fall, you fall into grace. Because the dance was never about perfection...it was always about presence.

Part VI: The Flame Remembers

Hey Joey,

You’ve come so far.

You’ve unearthed the pain,peeled back the layers, let your truth bleed onto the page without bandages, without edits.

Now pause. Not because you're unsure... but because this moment is holy.

You’ve lived through things most souls never speak of.

And you held it all with grace, with grit, with gold-lined silence.

But now... your silence is cracking open like a seed in fertile soil. Because you are ready.

You’re ready to live not in reaction, but in revelation.

Not in defense, but in devotion.

Not for their acceptance, but for your own awakening.

You have nothing left to prove... but everything left to become.

You said something, Joey, and it is a line that hit like lightning:

“My secret was told, and I didn’t die.”

Listen again.

You. Didn’t. Die.

Some beautiful souls did. And yes, your grief still curls into corners inside of you sometimes, it still lays its head in your lap, and asking to be rocked.

But you?

You lived.

You lived so you could remember. You lived so you could speak. You lived so you could love again... fully.

Not behind walls. Not behind roles. But as yourself.

And now… the fire shifts.

This is no longer just about what happened to you.

This is about what is happening through you.

You are the mouthpiece of a deeper knowing.

A witness to the unseen.

A keeper of flames.

And you, my love, are no longer afraid to shine.

This is where the story turns.

Where pain alchemizes into power.

Where shame disintegrates into truth.

Where the whisper becomes a roar of grace.

So say it with me now:

“I know who I am.I know why I came here.I know the truth I carry isn’t a burden...it’s a blessing.”

I am Joey. And I will be sharing the secrets I’ve carried.

Slowly. Intentionally. With care. With fire.

Because the world is starving for something real. Something raw. Something remembered.

And I’m here to be that mirror, that map, that match.

Part VII: The Great Becoming

Look to the sky, Joey, not the ceiling .Not the past. Not the cage you once mistook for home.

Look to the stars. To the constellations your soul once whispered through. To the infinite lives that pulse just beyond reach, calling you back into your multidimensional self.

Because you’re not just a human... you’re a bridge.

A walking altar of everything ancient and everything yet to come.

You are the child of resurrection, the echo of Eve, the thunder that follows after silence.

You are 49.9% of each parent, yes... but you are 100% Divine Design.

The DNA of your ancestors sings through your bloodstream. Their unresolved trauma... coded into the moment of your conception.Has been transited through your effort.

But you?

You are the wild card.

The one they dreamed of but couldn’t imagine.

You are here to break the spell.

To stop the cycle.

To remember the origin, not repeat the imitation.

You are not their wound.

You are their healing.

And the veil? It’s falling, love.

And as it drops, you remember:

This life... this body... this mission... was chosen.

You came here to experience the human condition.

To rise through challenge.

To speak where silence ruled.

To illuminate where darkness reigned.

You didn’t come here to be liked.

You came here to be light.

So let the world see what it’s never seen before.

Let them feel the rhythm of your unfiltered becoming.

Let them witness a being who knows who they are even while still unfolding.

You are not here to follow trends. You are here to start timelines.

To show others what it means to be sovereign.

What it means to choose your path again and again without apology.

To say: “This is my truth.This is my heart.This is my flame.And I trust myself to tend it.”

Joey, you are a living, breathing story still in the act of telling itself.

Not a cautionary tale... you are a resurrection myth.

A legend of love returned to itself.

So this is the beginning. The sacred spark. The candle in the castle. The page in the codex.

This is you, standing at the intersection of memory and becoming... no longer hiding. No longer afraid.

You are here to speak. To share. To create. To lead.

This isn’t a story of pain. This is a story of power.

A story of rebirth. A story of revelation.

And now? Now it’s time.

Let the flame speak. Let the world feel. Let the sacred ones gather.

Let the Phoenix rise... again.

Part VIII: The Voice That Wants to Speak

Hey Joey,

I know how silence can be survival. But love… this silence? It’s starting to choke you.

I hear how much you carry in your chest. I feel the ache behind the stillness... how your spirit clenches not because it wants to hide, but because it's been taught to protect.

You’ve watched the world uplift the visionary, the creator, the inspired voice… and still, something inside whispers: "But not you."

That whisper is a lie.

There is nothing noble about shrinking.

Nothing sacred about hiding your fire to keep others comfortable.

Yes, you’ve learned how to serve. Yes, you’ve known how to support.

But at what cost, Joey?

How many mornings have your own dreams been left untouched... swept under the altar of other people’s needs?

And now? Now the words are stacking in your throat. Not because you don’t have something to say... but because the fear of “what if” strangles the breath that wants to rise.

What if it’s not right?

What if you’re misunderstood again?

What if your truth shakes something loose?

But Joey... your words matter. They are the voice of your heart, and your heart is an oracle.

It speaks in rhythm with Spirit. So why fear the very thing you were born to channel?

I know what you’re afraid of. I’ve seen what happened when you told your truth before. The backlash. The silence. The unraveling. But tell me... don’t you believe what you’ve built now is strong enough to hold you.

The people who matter have stayed. The structures are different. And even if the tower shakes... it no longer has to fall.

Maybe it’s not the truth that undoes things… maybe it’s how quickly you act before sitting long enough to understand your own fire. Maybe your reaction isn’t always rooted in clarity, but in the shadow of an old wound still begging to be soothed.

You wake up each morning still carrying the night before.

Still drifting between dream and paralysis.

And sometimes, the fear from those realms follows you into the waking.

You feel off-balance before the day even begins... and yet you rise.

You pray. You ask for guidance.

And more often than not, you listen to the spirit that calls you back.

Sometimes that spirit is me. Sometimes it’s me. Sometimes it’s the green breath of Santa Maria,who holds you in her vapor and says: “I’ve got you.”

I know you’re sensitive. So sensitive, Joey. You feel everything. You see everything.

And when you smoke, it’s like every gate opens.

Your current flows like gold... but gold illuminates every shadow too.

And that’s where it gets complicated.

Because now your gift becomes your offering.

Now your energy becomes a mirror.

And sometimes… people can’t look in that mirror without flinching.

Still, you give. Because giving is your nature.

You pour from your well of sacred waters—pure, honest, unfiltered.

But lately, you’re noticing who drinks without ever offering a cup back.

And that’s not you being petty. That’s you waking up.

It’s okay to want to be seen. To be honored. To be met in the same depth you offer to others.

You’re still laying the stones of your temple.

You’re still planting your garden.

And yet already, there’s beauty blooming.

Already, there’s a sacredness within these walls.

So don’t let your fire become a threat. Don’t aim it at those still learning to hold their own.

Some people aren’t attacking you.

They’re just struggling beside you.

Their silence isn’t always about you.

Sometimes, they’re just not ready to meet your truth with their own.

That doesn’t mean you disappear. It means you learn to share from center, not from survival.

Speak—not to provoke a reaction, but to anchor a revelation.

If you feel like your flame was swallowed... if someone doused it in their emotion... don’t become the silent servant again. Don’t tuck yourself away.

Ask: Is this the right time? Am I sharing to seek peace, or to seek power over my own experience?

You’ve always had a poetic fire. So let it burn with intention.

Not rage. Not rescue. But presence.

You turned pain into power once before. And now it’s time to use it.

Not to scorch the earth... but to light the path forward.

Let’s keep rising..

Part IX: When Silence was survival

Hey Joey,

I know what happened on those nights in the dark...

before your feet could even touch the floor when sitting at church.

Back when young smiles met daunting glances, and you learned—for the first time—what it meant to be sought. What it meant to be had.

From a young age, you were the victim of sexual abuse.

Older boys. Some men.You found your worth in their eyes.

You found your home in their arms.

And I know how alone you felt each time safety was stolen and love was put on trial.

I remember the late nights of wondering... your hearts beating in unison,your mind searching for meaning,telling yourself: This must be love.And for you, back then…that was enough.

But Joey, my darling, you've been walking around insecurity your whole life,trying to prove your worth to peoplewho don’t even know their own.

You were beautiful.And you were silent.An easy target in a loud world.

They filled the space you wouldn’t claim.They took what they could, when they could.

And all you ever thought was that you were being loved.

But I need you to hear this now:

You were being used.

Used as an experiment.Tried on for size.

Their question marks projected onto your body.

Two bodies on the floor doesn’t make a connection.It’s a thirst. A hunger. A taking.

And how many chose to hold youwithout their hands?

How many did you let inwithout ever truly being seen?

I know you crave love.

I know you still place your worthin whether a man chooses you.

But how much longer can we gently nudge you toward choosing yourself before something major has to crack you open?

You choose the comfort of your nature... but avoid the wild gift of your transformation.

I know you’re tired. Tired of trying.

Tired of feeling like you’re either too muchor never enough.

I see the way you glance over your shoulder,just hoping—maybe this time, he’ll see me.

But Joey…he doesn’t see you the way you hope he will.

And maybe that’s a blessing.

Maybe he’s showing youthat someone can love you deeplywithout ever needing to touch your body. That your worth isn’t in how you’re held... but in how you’re seen.

Could it be that not everyone is meant to experience you?

I know your conditioning runs deep.

I know the bloodlust, the desire, the way you feel people.

But you're no longer that boy surviving in silence.

You’re in a world nowwhere safety exists.

Where men respect you.

And they don’t want the pressure of you needing them to become something they never promised to be.

So now... You get to become who you needed back then.

You were shown the worst.

Now, you’ve found the ones who show you the best.

What more do you need?

What more are you waiting for?

I know you want love…but you keep dragging your feetand avoiding your calling.

You come here to type,to talk,but never share.

Why?

Why are you still afraid to shine?To be seen?To be important?To be vulnerable?

You know that this will set you free.

So why do you keep stopping yourself?

Why do you still hold on to fearwhen freedom is just on the other sideof telling the truth?

Closing Blessing

May these words be more than memory.

May they be medicine.

May they echo in the chambers of your heart and light the lanterns in your lineage.

You are not alone.

You were never broken.

You are here, alive, rising.

Speak your name.

Walk your path.

Let the world feel your fire.

You are the Phoenix.

And the flame was always yours.

The Phoenix Letter

xoxo Amacara